Where Angels Tread
by Spike Speigel1
Summary: The answers about Spike's existence are about to be revealed. But, will the truth tear Buffy and Spike apart? Sequel to Falling Into You.
1. Warning

Title:  Warning

Author:  Spike Speigel

E-mail:  spikespeigel26@yahoo.com

Rating:  PG-13 (Language)

Classification:  Buffy/Spike

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me because I don't have the imagination to even touch Mr. Whedon's.

Spoilers:  Anything's fair game from season six so far.  Special consideration to Becoming, The Gift, and Hell's Bells.

Summary:  Where Angels Tread Prologue

Status:  Finished (I of ?)

Spike awoke to the sound of cars driving on the street downstairs, birds chirping through the window, and an arm wrapped around his chest.  At first, he couldn't remember how he came to be in his bed.  The last thing he remembered was kissing Buffy, enjoying the feel of her once again.  But, they had agreed to take it slow.  But, as Spike looked over to the side of the bed, he saw Buffy lying on her stomach, her hair tousled, and her upper back exposed.

Spike slowly began to roll out of bed until he felt the hand gently wrap around his forearm.

"Mmm, don't go."  The sheet slumped down Buffy's body, Spike somewhat relieved that her camisole was still on her body.  Wait.  Relieved?  What the hell was happening to him?  "Too early to get up."

"Luv, did we…?"

Buffy looked at him through squinted eyes, trying to comprehend what he was asking.  After a moment, Buffy's mind caught up with her.  She gently pulled Spike back into the bed, Spike chuckling slightly.

"And what if we did?"  Buffy mischievously smiled at Spike, her lips falling on the hollow of his neck.  "It's not like I haven't seen the whole package before."

Spike's chuckle turned into a fit of laughter, that caused by the touch of Buffy's lips on his sensitive skin.  Buffy pushed him onto his back, her hair brushing against his chest as she continued trailing kisses up his chin until she met his lips.  Spike reciprocated in kind, his hand gently grasping the nape of Buffy's neck, pulling her closer to him.  Between kisses, Spike tried to enunciate his concerns.

"Mmm, Buffy.  We can't."  While his words said no, his hands now running through her hair indicated yes, yes, oh God yes.

"Well, if you weren't…such a good…kisser…we…wouldn't…be having…this problem."

Spike reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, looking up into Buffy's green pools, seeing his reflection in them.  He smiled at the thought that he now had a reflection, tilting his head to get a better view.  Buffy, somewhat concerned about why their kissing session had ceased, queried him.

"What's wrong, Spike?"

"Um, nothing.  Just…just looking at myself."  Buffy looked at him, a hint of confusion on her face.  Spike gently traced his fingers around her eyes, indicating what he meant.  "That's a beautiful thing."

Buffy whispered as she lay against Spike's chest, wishing that his tee shirt would somehow magically disappear since it was preventing her from touching him.  "What?"

Spike matched her whisper, a smile emerging from his lips.  "Seeing my reflection in your eyes.  I never thought I'd be able to."

Buffy smiled back at Spike, her hand now cupping his cheek.  "I guess I've always taken that for granted."  Buffy looked into Spike's eyes, seeing her own reflection in his, realizing that Spike was right.  It was indeed a beautiful thing.

"What do you see when you look in my eyes?"

Buffy was a bit taken aback by Spike's vulnerability, but smiled nonetheless.  She enjoyed the fact that he was opening up to her, just as she had when she had come back from the dead.  She sat up, legs now straddling Spike's chest, as she contemplated his question.  Then, the words came to her and she knew that they felt right.  Spike moved up, his elbows propped behind him as he saw the smile emerge on Buffy's face.  He was about to ask her what she was thinking about, but Buffy beat him to the punch, answering the question.

"I see tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"  Spike sat up, looking at Buffy as she continued smiling.

"Look, I know that with my line of work, there's probably a good chance I don't have that many tomorrows."

"Buffy…"

Buffy moved forward, silencing Spike's concerns with a gentle kiss.  Her hands were now on either side of his face, as she pulled away from the kiss, continuing her thought.  "We have to be realistic here.  I should have been dead a long time ago.  Actually, I was."  Spike tilted his head forward, his forehead gently resting against Buffy's as he heard the sorrow beginning to overcome her.  "But, I have a second chance.  We both do."

"I know, pet."

"So, I just want every tomorrow from here on out to have one moment where I can see myself in your eyes."

Spike nodded agreement, moving his lips to her cheek, gently kissing her.  Buffy leaned into the kiss, Spike whispering.  "I think I can do that."

"Good."  Buffy's hands moved from Spike's face, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling his lips back to hers.  She moaned against his lips, Spike pulling back once more, this time catching Buffy off guard.  "What's wrong?"

"Uh, you never answered my question."

"Which was?"  Buffy knew what he was talking about but she liked that he was playing the innocent boyfriend.  Boyfriend.  God, that sounded good.

"We didn't, uh…"

"Didn't what?  Make love?"

"Well, I was gonna say make the beast with two backs, but yeah."

Buffy gently giggled, pushing Spike back onto the bed.  "God, you really are British, aren't you?"

"What was your first clue, Sherlock?"  Spike's arms wrapped around Buffy's waist, pulling her against his chest.  "The accent or the hair?"

"Hair?"

"Cor, woman.  Billy Idol knicked this do.  How many times do I have to tell you people this."

"Just until we care."

Buffy began to squirm in Spike's grasp, trying to get a better position but Spike wouldn't relent.  Instead, he tried his query again.

"So, did we or didn't we?"

Buffy grinned as her mouth moved to Spike's ear, nibbling it.

"Mmm, no.  But, if we can do this for a while, I really don't mind."  Her lips began to trail kisses down his neck until she came face to face with him once again.  "Much."

Spike smiled back, gently kissing the tip of her nose.  "Glad to hear it, luv.  Glad to hear it."

"You've got to be kidding me."

Fred smiled back at Gunn as they made their way up the steps of the building.  While Charles Gunn had a knack of dealing with the demon element of Los Angeles, the human element was still disconcerting to him.  First, there was the very new experience of having Fred as his girlfriend.  Now, there was the fact that they were about to walk into a building filled with loonies.  Talk about a contrast.

"This is where Cordy's vision pointed out, so in we go, Charles."

"But why us?  Why can't Lorne do this?  He's more of a people person."

"Yeah, but I don't think the nice people need another reason to think they're not entirely healthy in their mental faculties."

Gunn smiled as he held the door open for his cute little girlfriend.  "You know, I just love it when you bring the science.  Makes you sound very sexy."

Fred giggled slightly, gently patting him on the chest as she walked past him.  "Charles.  I thought we agreed on no foreplay while on the job?"

"Okay.  How about we get to the main event then?"  He was rewarded with a 'we're here to work, not play' smirk.  "Gotcha."  Gunn smiled as he walked past her.  "I can wait till we're off the clock."

"Charlesssss."

Gunn chuckled as Fred caught up to him, both walking side by side.  Next came the obvious question as Gunn looked over to Fred.  "So, any idea of who we're here to help?"

Fred shook her head slowly, uncertain of an answer.  "Cordy said that he was a Caucasian with a grizzly look.  I'm guessing a beard."

"Probably.  So…"

Before Gunn could finish his statement, the shouts began to permeate the institution once again.  Both turned to the hallway behind the reception desk, seeing a middle aged man running down the hall, yelling at the top of his lungs.  As Gunn was about to act, the receptionist turned back, yelling at the individual in the hospital gown.

"Mr. Tweedy!"

However, Jack Tweedy paid her no mind, running blindly, his head focused on the floor in front of him.  That's the reason why he didn't see the two people standing in front of him.  Or, more accurately, the two people he plowed over.

Gunn and Fred fell backwards, Gunn instinctively grabbing the troubled man, Fred stating the obvious.

"Look, a beard."

Gunn looked down at the man as the orderlies raced down the hallway, evident to the casual passerby that they were chasing Jack Tweedy for a while by the length of their inhalations coupled with the rise and fall of their chests.  "Hey, man.  You okay?"

The answer was not what Gunn was expecting.  "He's here!  Have to get away."  Jack turned to Gunn, grabbing his shirt violently, pulling him so they were now face to face.  "He's going to kill us all!"

Before Gunn could question the man, the orderlies were on Jack, pulling him up violently as they led him back to his room.

"That's enough of that, Mr. Tweedy.  Everything's okay.  You're safe here."

Jack almost cackled maniacally if that was even possible as he was pulled back to his room, the tops of his feet dragging against the tile.  "You fools.  He's here!  He'll kill us all!"

The other orderly gently chuckled as everyone except the two employees from Angel Investigations took him for granted.  "Sure thing, Mr. Tweedy.  And this William the Bloody's the reason why he's back."  Both men started to laugh as John (call me Jack) Tweedy continued to struggle in his captors' grasp.  "William the Bloody.  What a mouthful."

As John Tweedy disappeared down the hall, the receptionist finally realized that she wasn't alone in the reception area.

"Excuse me.  Is there something I can help you with?"

Fred looked to Gunn before speaking.  "Um, that's okay.  I think we've seen all we needed to see."

Both individuals turned back to the entrance, the receptionist burying her head into her tabloid once again as Gunn asked the obvious

"What do you think that was all about?"

"Honestly, I have no idea."

Gunn halfheartedly chuckled as they made it outside once again, heading down the stairs to the Los Angeles Mental Institution.  "Maybe he's doped up?"

"I don't think so.  He seemed pretty lucid to me, Charles."

Gunn nodded, adjusting his shirt.  "Yeah.  Had a hell of a grip, too."  As they reached the pickup, Gunn spoke.  "What do you think he meant by William the…what was it?"

Fred filled in the blank.  "Bloody.  Never heard of him."

"Well, let's head on back.  Maybe Lorne or Angel knows what this is all about."

Fred meekly smiled as she got into the truck, Jack Tweedy's words bothering her for some odd reason.  It was just the ramblings of a madman.  That was all.  Right?

"So, the niblet's okay?"

Buffy hung up the phone, Spike standing at the kitchen counter, placing another English muffin into the toaster.  As he began to spread the jelly on the first one, he felt familiar arms wrapping around his waist, Buffy's head peeking over his shoulder, looking at his culinary masterpiece.

"She's okay.  Told her I fell asleep here.  I think she'll like the surprise I'm going to bring home later."  Spike smirked at Buffy's hint as he turned his attention back to his task.  "So, this what you call breakfast?"

"No, pet.  This is what I call lunch.  We missed breakfast since you wouldn't let me out of the sodding bedroom."

Buffy let go of her embrace, moving to Spike's side, swiping the piece of English muffin that Spike had just finished spreading.  "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say you didn't like my company?"

Spike smiled as he moved to spread the remaining piece of muffin.  "Well, see.  That just proves we're not meant to be."

Buffy moved away from the kitchen counter, walking over to the other side of the kitchen, taking a seat on one of the barstools lined against the counter of the outer kitchen wall.  "That's not funny."

"Luv, I was just fooling."

"I know, but we were so close to…"  Spike could hear the sorrow in her voice.  Before he could respond, the other English muffin ejected from the toaster, Spike quickly placing them on a plate before moving over to the kitchen counter, looking at Buffy.

"I'm sorry, pet.  Promise, no more jokes."

Buffy looked up, seeing the remorse in his eyes.  "It's okay.  Think I'm still trying to get up.  That's all."  Spike nodded, placing a bit of English muffin into his mouth.

"So, tell me what I've missed since I've been gone."

Buffy opened her mouth, about to speak.  However, as quickly as it opened, it closed just as fast.  Where should she start?  Xander and Anya were now man and wife.  Ms. Kroger had given the family environment her seal of approval.  And Willow was back among the conscious.  Where should she start indeed?

Spike moved over to Buffy, seeing the troubled look in her eyes.

"What is it, pet?"

Buffy looked over to Spike, finally noticing that he was now sitting next to her.  She smiled awkwardly as she spoke.

"Nothing.  Just thinking about the question."

"Didn't think it was loaded, luv."

"I know.  It's just…"  Buffy sighed as she spoke.  "It's just…a lot has happened since you've been gone."

"Yeah?"

Buffy nodded, Spike never taking his eyes off her.  Buffy decided to go from small to big.  "Well, Social Services says we're okay for now."  Spike smiled as he nodded approval.  "Xander and Anya's wedding was yesterday."

"Sorry I couldn't get back in time."

Buffy smiled as she reached over to Spike's hand, gently squeezing it.

"It's okay.  I know you had your hands full in England."

"Yeah, I did.  But, still.  Woulda been nice to see the boy not run out this time."

Both shared a small laugh before Buffy gently scolded him by tapping his leg.  "That's not funny."

"Coulda fooled me."  Another gentle laugh from Buffy before she continued.

"You gonna keep making fun of my friend or you gonna let me finish my rundown?"

Spike raised his hands innocently, indicating for Buffy to continue.  After a moment of silence, Buffy finally mustered up the courage to get the words out, unsure of how Spike would react.

"Um, and Willow's awake."

Buffy looked up at Spike, certain that he would go on the defensive.  Instead, all she saw was a look of confusion.

"Come again?"

"Yeah.  Will's awake."

Buffy never took her eyes off Spike as he put the knife down to the side of his muffin.  He contemplated Buffy's words, his brow furrowed before he spoke.

"So, this is a good thing then."  Spike raised his gaze, a meek smile on his face.  "Right?"  Buffy nodded her head slightly, indicating the positive.

"I think so.  I mean, she's doing okay.  But…"

Spike finished her sentence for her.

"But you're not entirely sure if she's gonna fall off the wagon again.  Innit right?"

Buffy wanted to deny his observation, but something inside her stopped her from lying to herself.  There was still that inkling of doubt in the back of her head.  And, that was one inkling too much for Buffy Summers.  Buffy was so wrapped in her thoughts, that she didn't feel the hands move onto her shoulders, Spike now standing behind her, gently squeezing.

"Don't worry, luv.  This time things will be different."

Buffy's doubts came to the surface, her voice tinted with sorrow.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because she's Red.  She's a Scooby, no matter how much she tries to think differently."  Buffy gently laughed, her body moving backward, leaning against Spike's chest.

"You have all the answers, don't you, Spike."

"Actually, my name's William."  Buffy looked up, seeing a small smirk on Spike's face.

"I know that.  But…"  Buffy thought about her response before speaking.  "Do you want me to call you William from now on?"  Buffy thought that's what he meant.  He said he wanted a new start.  Maybe changing his name would help facilitate that.  However, Spike just chuckled as he moved to get his wallet, dropping the Green Card on the counter.  Buffy looked on in puzzlement as Spike walked the two or three steps into the living room, dropping onto the sofa rear first, the cushions exhaling as he did so.

"Take a look."

Buffy turned her gaze from Spike to the kitchen counter, looking at the identification that made Spike a real person.  At least on paper, that is.

"It's a Green Card."

"Take a glance at the name, pet?"

Buffy's eyes moved from the picture of Spike, noting that he looked all austere and gruff, a very good look on him by the way, making her way to the name at the bottom of the card.  That's when she realized what Spike meant.

"Tell me you didn't…"

"Blame your sodding Watcher.  Whatever possessed him to give me that surname is beyond my comprehension."  Spike reclined his body, his legs swinging onto the couch, his arm now covering his eyes as he spoke.  "Bloody poetic, is what he said."

Buffy considered the piece of identification once again, smiling now at the thought of Giles picking this name for Spike.  Buffy knew her Watcher well enough to know that this was his subtle way of saying that Spike was okay with him.  Even if he was the Slayer's new beau.

She laid the card back on the counter, moving from the counter toward the living room.  Spike seemed too lost in thought to realize that Buffy was now lying on his chest, her legs entwining with his as she pulled his arm from his face gently.

"You know, it's not a bad name."

"Don't you start patronizing me now, okay?"

"No, no.  I mean, it's a good name."  Buffy smiled down at Spike, her hand moving through his bed ridden hair, thinking that he looked even sexier when he woke up.  "I've always wondered what your last name was."

Spike looked up at Buffy, an eyebrow raised at her.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Spike's curiosity got the better of him.

"Since when?"

Buffy smiled at Spike, her hand now on his chest, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.  The silence hovered in the air for a bit, Spike's look turning from one of curiosity to one of desperation.

"Buffy?"

"What?"

Spike's hands moved from his sides, his fingers gently tracing against her sides and the small of her back.  If he remembered anything vital, it was the locations on her body that made her ticklish.  Buffy began to chuckle, her lips pursed to prevent any laughter from escaping into the room.

"You gonna tell me now?"

Buffy quickly shook her head, a huge smile on her lips as she fought to maintain her composure under Spike's 'torture'.  However, her attempt was futile once Spike's fingers fell onto her ribcage.  Once there, Buffy's laughter exploded, her speech flowing from her lips.

"Okay!  Okay!  I give!"

Spike smirked at his victory, his fingers relenting as his arms wrapped about her waist, holding her closer to him.

"Okay then.  Out with it, Slayer."

Buffy frowned playfully, her hands resting palm down on his chest as she spoke, her face no more than three inches away from his.  "When Giles first told me about you."  Spike nodded, a genuine frown on his face.

"You know, I can't take back what I've done.  Right?"

Buffy nodded solemnly, remembering back to her conversation on the balcony with Willow.  "Well, neither can Angel.  And he's doing okay."  A subtle smile played on her lips as she tried to assuage Spike's fears.  "Right?"

Spike nodded, understanding what Buffy was trying to say.  "So, what did Giles say that made you wonder about my last name?"

"The way he introduced you.  William the Bloody.  What kind of name is that, anyhow?"

Buffy gently giggled as Spike pulled her closer to him, their noses almost touching.

"Careful, luv.  That name was feared for a reason."

Buffy gently kissed him on the nose before quickly reclining backwards, her legs now about his waist.

"So, what was your last name?"  Spike looked at her in puzzlement.  "Before you were turned."

"Oh."  Spike made no movement, enjoying the sight of the woman in his view, a genuine smile on her face.  Because of him, no less.  "I don't really remember.  I've a feeling that even without this flotsam of a memory, I wouldn't remember."  A frown covered his lips as he spoke.  "That wasn't a good time for me.  Back when I was alive.  It was…it was…"

Buffy silenced him, her index and middle finger resting on his lips.

"It's okay."

Spike gave her a small smile, gently kissing her fingers as though she was holding them to him because she had a cut and wanted him to make it better.  Buffy smiled at his tenderness before speaking.

"Anyway.  I like your new name.  Giles did a good job."

"You think so?  I thought it came off kinda Norman Bates-ish."

"No, it's good.  It suits you."

"What makes you say that, luv?"

Buffy slowly moved her fingers from his lips, gently stroking his temple.  "Your eyes.  They're as blue as a cold December night."  At first, Spike thought that Buffy had just called him cold hearted.  But, the look in her eyes quickly dismissed that thought.  She looked serene as her gaze entwined with his.  After a moment of silence between the two reunited souls, Spike's voice filled the void.

"If you like it, can't be all bad then."

Buffy leaned forward, her body now resting on his, her head against his chest.  Her ear lay near his heart, still unfamiliar with the newly beating heart now present within.  While unfamiliar, it was very comforting.  A reminder.  That he was really there with her.  "So, William Winters.  What do you want to do today?  This being your first day back and all."

Spike subtly smiled upon hearing his name on her lips.  It sounded good when she said it.  It sounded right.  Spike tilted his head forward, tenderly nuzzling his nose against her hair that smelled faintly of peaches.  "Just wanna stay here a bit longer, pet."

Buffy slowly wrapped her arms around Spike's waist, her eyes still focused on the television screen that reflected the image of two people trying to make up for lost time they had foolishly thrown to the wayside.  Looking at the image, Buffy realized a strange truth.  The man in her embrace had once been one of her most feared enemies.  She had dedicated her life to ridding the world of his kind.

But, Spike had never really been a common vampire.  He had shown bouts of humanity.  That much was evident when he helped her in stopping Angelus from opening the gates to Hell.  He had shown a genuine concern for Dawn when Glory was trying to bleed her to return to her own dimension.  And he had shown to her when she had been resurrected how he truly felt about her, even without a soul.  He had loved her, even though, for all concerned, he shouldn't have been able to.

But, that was what drew Buffy to him.  Even though he was the Big Bad, to her he had become a lover.  A confidante.  A friend.  Buffy smiled at the thought, a whisper escaping her lips as she lay against his chest, feeling at ease in his presence.  "Stay forever."

Buffy wasn't sure if Spike had heard her.  After all, his hearing might not be what it once used to be.  But, her answer came in the form of a kiss on the top of her head followed by Spike's arm wrapping around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him.  Neither said a word, but both knew what the other was thinking, the thought bringing a tender smile to both as they lay together, their bodies entwined, Buffy unsure where her body ended and where Spike's begun.  Her eyes remained on the television, enjoying the sight of the man holding her because he wanted to.  Because he loved her.

_To be continued_


	2. Came A Pale Rider

Title:  Came A Pale Rider

Author:  Spike Speigel

E-mail:  spikespeigel26@yahoo.com

Rating:  PG-13 (Language and Violence)

Classification:  Buffy/Spike, Angel/Cordelia

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me because I don't have the imagination to even touch Mr. Whedon's.

Spoilers:  Sequel to Falling into You.  Anything's fair game from season six.  Special consideration to A New World, Benediction, and Tomorrow.  And if you haven't read the Falling into You series, you won't have any idea what's going on here.  So, go read the FIY series.  Now.  Scoot.  Get outta here. 

Summary:  Where Angels Tread (II of XIII)

Status:  Finished

Angel sat in his office, still thumbing through some notes that Wesley had left before he was essentially thrown out of the hotel and any affiliation with Angel Investigations.  There was word on the street that Wesley had gone to work for Wolfram and Hart, but there was no solid confirmation of that.  Then again, it had been almost four months since he had seen Wesley.  Unfortunately, Wesley was the least of Angel's problems.

While he had been able to escape from his watery grave, Angel still couldn't believe who had placed him there in the first place.  Connor.  His own son.

Now Angel had to deal with both his friend and his flesh and blood trying to end his existence.  And why?  Because he was too stubborn to forgive in the former case.  Too helpless to control the events in the latter.  So, Angel sat in his office, which was once Wesley's, looking out into the lobby of the hotel.  His eyes were currently locked on the woman sitting at the counter, the latest women's magazine splayed out in front of her, most likely looking for the latest fashion and beauty tips.

It was a shame she didn't know that those things didn't matter to him.  He only cared about what kind of person she was.  Who she was on the inside.  The good in her heart.  But, he had to admit, when she did that thing with her hair, the way it flipped whenever she turned about quickly, that always made him smile.  He wondered if it still worked.  "Hey, Cordy."

As she turned her gaze from the magazine, her lips slightly lifted into a smile, a gleam in her eye as she spoke.  "Yeah?"

He waited for her body to come entirely around.  And there it was.  Her hair flipping gently across her forehead, Angel returning Cordelia's smile.  "Nothing.  Just checking to see if you fell asleep again."

"Again would imply that I fell asleep before."

"Uh, what about half an hour ago?"

"That doesn't count.  I wasn't sleeping.  I was just…"

Angel finished her statement, getting ready to duck when the magazine came flying into the office.  "Resting your eyes."

A quick duck and there went the magazine.  If Angel didn't know better, he would have thought that Cordelia's gift from the Powers was making her faster.  While it had been Cordelia that had ultimately found him through the use of her new powers, she never told Angel why she had thought he was in danger.  Sure, they were supposed to meet at the bluff for a conversation.  But, after the incident with Connor, they never got a chance to finish the conversation.  Actually, to be more accurate, they never started it.

Instead, the awkwardness remained between them while the group tried to come to grips with Wesley's possible alliance and Connor's unabated thirst for vengeance.  They were both still out there.  As long as they were, things would never calm down enough for Angel to have that conversation with Cordelia.

As the thought remained in Angel's consciousness, the lobby door to the Hyperion swung open; with Fred and Gunn walking into the lobby.  As Gunn took off Fred's coat for her, Fred spoke.  "Hey guys.  We're back."

Angel rose from his chair, bending over quickly to scoop up the magazine from the floor.  As he walked into the lobby, he gently tossed the periodical onto the counter, giving Cordelia a grin as he moved toward Fred and Gunn.  "So, what happened?"

As Fred shrugged off her jacket, Cordelia moved from behind the counter.  Standing next to Angel's side, she gently elbowed him in the side for mocking her 'attack' against him.  Fred grinned slightly at the gesture before answering Angel's question.  "Well, we found the person Cordy saw in her vision."

Based on the tone of Fred's voice, Cordelia knew that something was amiss.  "But…"

Gunn filled in the blank as he placed the jacket onto the coat rack.  "But he was a total loony.  Kept on screaming about the end of the world as the orderlies tried to control him."

Fred nodded agreement as she spoke.  "It was so odd.  He was so scared but as far as I could see, there was nothing wrong with the institution.  But, Mr. Tweedy was certain someone was going to kill him."

"Not just him, all of us."  Fred looked at Gunn, shooting him a grin for correcting her.  "And what was that thing?  With the blood?"

Fred came to Gunn's aid.  "Not a thing, Charles.  A person.  William the Bloody."

The subtle smile on Angel's face quickly disappeared as soon as he heard the name.  Cordelia couldn't believe what she had just heard.  "Wait.  Did you say William the Bloody?"

"Yeah.  Why?  Does it mean anything to you, Cordy?"

Before Cordelia could recount her brief meeting with him during her high school years, Angel interrupted.  "Tell me exactly what Mr. Tweedy said about Spike."

Gunn and Fred looked at each other quizzically before Gunn spoke.  "Spike?"

"William the Bloody."

"Oh, so you know him then."

"In a sense."

Gunn's curiosity got the better of him.  "In what sense?"

"In a murderous rage kinda sense."

"Oh."  

Gunn yielded any further questions as the furrow on Angel's forehead became more prominent, most likely because of the rage that the name had somehow brought out in him.  When Angel turned to Fred, she also noticed the change in Angel's demeanor upon hearing the name that linked back to their recent case.  Angel tried his query once again, this time a bit more agitated.  "Tell me exactly what you heard when you went to visit Mr. Tweedy."

Fred looked down, trying to recollect the snippets of dialogue heard at the mental institution, so she could try and assuage Angel's current behavior.  Once she was sure of the words, she spoke.  "Well, the orderlies were trying to contain Mr. Tweedy while he kept on saying that 'He was going to kill us all.'  Then, one of the orderlies laughed, mentioning that William the Bloody was the reason why everything was happening."

"Are you sure that's what happened?"

Fred turned to Gunn, wanting some verification that what she said was correct.  Because presently, Fred wasn't entirely sure herself, the incident happening a bit too quickly for her to remember.  Gunn chimed in, coming to Fred's aid.  "Yeah, pretty much.  This William guy's gonna kill us all.  But, c'mon.  One guy…"

Angel quickly turned away, walking back into the office, not waiting for Gunn to finish his statement.  Cordelia followed quickly behind, concern filling her for Angel's current emotional state.  As they walked into the office, Angel grabbed his jacket, checking the pockets.  He nodded to himself in affirmation as he pulled out the keys to the car while sliding into his jacket.  Cordelia spoke, knowing what Angel was now thinking.  "What do you think you're doing?"

"What does it look like?"

As Angel began to walk out of the office, Cordelia's hand fell on his arm, gently pulling him toward her.  Angel's gaze fell on hers, Cordelia answering his question.  "I'd say it looks like you're going to Sunnydale to find Spike."

"Close.  I'm not going to find him.  I'm going to kill him."

"Hey.  Look."  Angel frowned, his gaze still locked with Cordelia, but beginning to waver.  She had that pesky habit of talking sense into him.  And, right now, he didn't want any part of it.  "What if you're wrong?  You can't just kill him because of information that came from a loony bin."

"Mental institution."

"You know what I mean."  Cordelia sighed, Angel's behavior beginning to frustrate her.  "I'm coming with you then."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am.  This is the only way I'm going to be sure you're not going to do something stupid."

Angel took a breath he didn't need to calm himself before talking again.  "Look.  I need you here.  You're the only one strong enough to take care of things if something happens while I'm gone.  There's no way Fred, Gunn or Lorne could handle Connor if he decides to…"

Cordelia nodded, gently squeezing Angel's forearm as she spoke.  "Fine.  But promise me you'll find out all the facts before playing judge, jury and executioner.  After all, it's been a while since we've been back to Sunnydale.  Spike might not even be there anymore."

"Alright.  I won't kill him as soon as I see him."

Cordelia twisted her face into a grimace, indicating that his sense of humor was off the mark.

"Fine.  I'll find out what's going on.  Then I'll kill him."

"That's better."

Angel smiled gently as he spoke.  "Anyway.  Buffy's probably taken care of him by now if he's still there."

"Mmm, Spike."

Their bodies moved slowly, Spike gently pushing Buffy against the closet door, his hands planted on either side of her as his lips passionately crushed against hers, Buffy sighing into his mouth, her hands barely holding onto the shirt she had taken out of the closet for Spike.  His lips slowly moved away from hers, his mouth moving down to the crook of her neck.  Sensuously tracing the curve with his tongue, his teeth grazing her now flushed skin.

"Thought you wanted…Oh, God…"  Buffy's breath caught in her throat as she felt his teeth on her skin, his mouth trailing kisses along her shoulder.  Spike mumbled as he continued his ministrations on the woman in front of him.

"What'd you say?  I'm a bit preoccupied right now."

Buffy sighed softly, the shirt falling from her grasp as she felt Spike's body pressing her against the closet.  As she relished every taut muscle now imprinted against hers, his lips moved back up her neck, Spike breathing deeply.  Buffy steadied herself against the closet door, trying to maintain her composure as she spoke.  Unfortunately, her voice betrayed her as Spike continued to make her feel like every nerve ending in her body was on fire.

"Thought you wanted to see Dawn?"

"I do.  I will.  But I just have to know."

"Know what?"

Spike reluctantly pulled his lips away from Buffy's soft, welcoming skin, the taste of her still on his lips.  As he looked into her eyes, a slight grin spread across his face.  Buffy tilted her head slightly, a smile on her face wondering what the man in front of her was thinking.  Spike looked on in awe, still not believing that he was truly awake, but in a very lovely dream as he spoke.  "Know whether or not you still feel the same way I feel about you."

Buffy stood there, her smile fading from her face.  At that moment, Spike was certain that he had said the wrong thing.  He had put his damn foot in his bloody mouth once again.  Spike was about to scramble for an apology, but he never got a chance.

Instead, Buffy leaned forward, her lips pressed to his once again, her kiss gentle as she dropped the shirt to the floor.  Her arms wrapped about his neck, pulling him closer to her, deepening their kiss.  Spike sighed as Buffy's tongue grazed against his, dancing the dance they had began almost a year ago.

Spike's hands slid from the closet door, falling about her waist, pulling her closer to him.  As their moans got louder, their breathing erratic, Buffy pulled away, gasping softly.  Spike leaned in slightly, capturing her lips, allowing Buffy only a moment to catch her breath.  Buffy's hand clenched against the base of Spike's neck, the other running feverishly through his hair, Buffy losing herself in him once again.  Only with him.

Buffy pulled away once again, both breathing as though they had just run to Hell and back.  Their gaze locked, Spike looking on, a hint of confusion on his face.  First he thought he had said the wrong thing.  Now, he found himself thinking that he had done something wrong again.  Instead, Buffy smiled, her voice staggered between her breaths.  "Does that…answer…your…question?"

Spike smiled, nodding as he tried to catch his breath.  Buffy returned his smile, feeling her cheeks flush as he looked at her, losing herself in those beautiful eyes.  "Good.  Next time you think different, I'm gonna kick your ass."

"Oooh.  Kinky.  You remember what I like."

Buffy chuckled as her fingers continued running through his hair.  "Shut up and kiss me, Floppy."

The smile quickly dissipated from Spike's countenance, a playful frown replacing it.  "Who you calling Floppy?"

"You."

"Reason being?"

Buffy's lips pulled up slightly, her fingers running through his hair, gently pulling it up into little tufts, twirling it around between her fingertips.

"Your hair.  I like it this way."

Spike looked at her, not exactly understanding what she was trying to say.  Buffy nodded slightly, looking deep into his eyes, enjoying the fact that she was here with him.  Just a few weeks ago, she wasn't sure if he still loved her.  Now, here she was.  In his arms.  Talking about his hair, of all things.  Strange thing was, it felt so right.

"Don't get me wrong.  The platinum blonde thing was nice, too.  But the blondish brown and lack of egregious amounts of hairgel make it look more natural."  Buffy leaned closer to Spike, nuzzling against the crook of his neck.  "More inviting."

Spike sighed loudly; Buffy's touch making him weak in the knees.  As he spoke, his voice betrayed him; Buffy smiling against his neck at the fact that he also enjoyed the way she touched him.  "So, is that my new nickname?"

Buffy gently kissed the side of his neck before returning her gaze to his.  They looked at each other, both knowing what the other was feeling right at that moment.  They rarely needed words, but it was the lack of words that had initially separated them.  Buffy vowed that she'd never let that happen again.  Never again.

She spoke, her voice in a hushed whisper, a slight smile on her lips.  "Until I can think of something better, yep."  Spike chuckled softly, Buffy leaning in slowly, tilting her head upward.  "Now, shut up and kiss me, Floppy."

Spike pulled back slightly, a hint of hurt on his face.  Buffy, thinking that she might have been a little to forward in her demand, tried for an apology.  She never got the chance as Spike quickly leaned in, his lips gently pressing against Buffy's.  Their eyes locked, Spike feeling the smile emerging on Buffy's lips as she realized his feint.  They closed their eyes, relishing the sensation, both content about the here and now.

"So, did Xander say when they'd be back from Hawaii?"

Tara looked down to the floor, Dawn lying against her stomach.  A textbook lay in front of her, a highlighter in her hand.  Dawn never looked up, continuing to mark the passages that she thought were most important to the upcoming class discussion the next day.  Tara smiled at the studious bookworm laid out at her feet, enjoying the normality of the situation.

And it was normal.  Well, for living under this roof anyway.  With all of the averted apocalypses and numerous deaths that occurred in this city, a simple act such as reading a book or studying for an exam seemed like the odd thing to do.  But, here they were.  Tara reading her novel, Dawn spending her valuable downtime studying for class.  And the world wasn't ending.  Again.

Tara turned her gaze back to her novel, answering Dawn's question.  "Well, I didn't get to talk to him long, but it sounds like they're going to be there for a while."

"What makes you say that, Tara?"

Tara thought back to her last conversation with Xander over a telephone.  The sounds he made during that morning didn't even compare to the ones he made a few minutes ago, Anya being more vocal this time as well.  Tara couldn't help but wonder if she was the catalyst for Xander and Anya having sex.  After all, this was the second time in as many calls where she had caught them in the act.  Well, unless the sounds she heard were of the wrestling variety.  "Let's just say I have a hunch, okay?"

Dawn looked up, at first not understanding what Tara meant.  But, as soon as the small grin emerged from the corner of the witch's lips, Dawn knew exactly what Tara had meant.  Well, it wasn't like Xander and Anya tried to hide their sexual appetites from anyone; even a little innocent girl like Dawn.  Never mind that she was a teenager now.  Hey, sixteen wasn't something to look lightly on.  "Well, I hope those two have fun.  At least some of us will be happy for a while."

"Yeah, I know what you mean, Dawnie."

Willow had tried to get herself back into people mode, but there were times when she wanted to be by herself.  Which explained why she was at the library right now.  Probably catching up on all of the back issues of Physics Today.  While most women their age tended to go along the lines of something more feminine for light reading, Willow felt more comfortable with a good issue of Popular Mechanics or Scientific American.

Then there was Buffy.  While it was obvious to anyone with a pulse (and almost everyone without one) that she was missing Spike, the truth had been revealed to all but her last night.  If Xander was right, then Spike wasn't coming back to Sunnydale.  And with Buffy's current emotional situation, the news would most likely break her.  Tara could only hope that Spike was man enough to tell Buffy the truth.  If not, the task would have to fall to one of them.  The thing was, who in their right mind would tell Buffy that Spike wasn't coming back and live to tell the tale?

So, the group that was once inseparable now had two in Hawaii, one trying to regain her humanity, another at Spike's place without a clue of what was going to come, and the remainder at Buffy's house, acting the most normal of the group.  Tara smiled at the thought, a witch and a former key to the gates of hell being the model of normality.

Well, there was Spike, of course.  But, he was never officially a part of the group.  Even now, he was considered an outsider.  None of them knew how to treat him as a person.  No, that was a lie.  The young woman on the ground saw Spike as more than a monster.  To Dawn, he'd always be her protector; her best friend.  Even now, Dawn knew in her heart that Spike was going to come back.  You'd have to be blind not to see the hope in her eyes whenever she mentioned his name.  There was no doubt in her mind that Spike wasn't not coming back.  "I'm sure Xander and Anya will be fine.  After all, who's ever heard of a dreary honeymoon?"

"You don't watch Passions, do you?"

Tara gave Dawn a curious look, Dawn giggling slightly at the joke that just fell on deaf ears.  Spike would have gotten the joke.  "Sorry.  A bit of insider humor there."

"Oh."  Tara nodded, her eyes falling on the clock on the other side of the living room.  "Is it really that late?"

Dawn looked up from her book to the clock, a bit stunned at the time herself.  "Guess what they say is true.  Time really does fly when you're having fun."

"So, you enjoy reading about American history?"

Dawn contemplated Tara's question before closing the textbook with a resounding thud.  "Then again, like time can really fly."

Tara chuckled softly as she rose from the sofa, placing her work of fiction to the side.  "So, what do you want for dinner, Dawn?"

"I'm not sure.  What are you in the mood for?"

"You know, I'm not entirely certain.  Maybe we should wait for Buffy and Willow so we can go out or something.  Spend some quality time together."

"Yeah, but who knows when they're going to get home?"

As if they were being closely surveilled, the answer to Dawn's query came in the form of the lock to the front door tumbling open.  Dawn mused on the occurrence, then spoke once again.  "Yeah, but who knows when Keanu Reeves is going to come home?"

Tara gave Dawn a quizzical look, a small smile playing about her face.

"Hey, it was worth a shot."

Tara nodded, both women walking over to greet whoever was at the front door.  As they reached the front door, Buffy stepped through the archway, a hint of a smile on her face.  The type of smile that indicated that the party in charge of said smile knew something that wasn't common knowledge.  Dawn decided to see if her intuition of her sister was still functional.  "What are you hiding?"

Buffy gave Dawn a look of feigned insult as she spoke.  "Gee, Dawn.  Glad to see you too."

"Yeah, yeah.  So, what is it?"

"What makes you think I'm hiding anything?"

Tara chimed in, finally noting the playful demeanor about Buffy's person.  "Well, the fact you're grinning like a Cheshire cat for one."

"Et tu, Tara?"

"That proves it.  She's quoting Shakespeare.  Wait, you're not the bot, are you?"

Buffy gently rubbed her sister's head, trying to assuage her fears.  "I'm the real deal, sister dear."

"So, what's up then?  You being all smiley."

Buffy hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out the right words.  Once she was sure of herself, she spoke.  "Well, a stray followed me home and I want to keep him."

Tara and Dawn exchanged a puzzled look as Buffy interrupted them.

"Go outside and look.  If you don't like him, I'll send him back."

"You are so weird."

With that, Dawn stepped outside, Tara following close behind.  As they looked out onto the front yard, neither could see the animal that Buffy had supposedly brought home with her.  "I don't see it, Buffy."

"That's 'cos I'm right here."

Dawn turned her gaze to the porch, her eyes falling on the figure sitting in the shadows, swaying gently in the porch swing.  As the person stood up and emerged from the shadows, Dawn's smile grew, knowing for certain now that her hearing hadn't betrayed her.

"Hello, pigeon."

Dawn ran over to Spike, her arms wrapping about his waist almost instinctively, her emotions overcoming her.  "I knew you'd come back.  I knew Xander was wrong."

Spike chuckled as he embraced the younger Summers in his arms.  "Well, when isn't he wrong?"  Spike looked over to the door, Buffy and Tara standing there, both with a smile on their face.  "So, you been taking care of yourself, pet?"

Tara nodded her head slightly, enjoying the moment.  "Course I have.  Wouldn't do me well if you came back and I wasn't, now would it?"

Spike let out a tender laugh, Dawn releasing her hold on him.  As she stood next to him, Spike's arm still remained wrapped about her shoulder.  "No, I guess it wouldn't.  Feel sorry for the blokes that would try to prove otherwise."  Spike and Dawn walked over to the two women, Spike looking over to Buffy, with a look of amusement on his face.  "A stray, huh?  Gonna send me away, are you?"

Buffy playfully grinned, her voice filled with joy as she spoke.  "What do you think guys?  Should we keep him?"

Tara was the first to answer.  "Oh, definitely.  He makes a great watchdog."

Dawn seconded the motion, moving her arm about Spike's waist.  "And he's so cuddly."

Spike groaned, his free hand running through his hair.  "Bloody hell.  I went from being the scourge of Europe to being a fluffy puppy."

"Yeah, but I don't see you complaining."

Spike threw Buffy a bemused look, as Dawn giggled at her sister's observation.

"Luv, think I just did."

"Yeah, but you didn't mean it.  Now, let's move this conversation inside.  I'm feeling a bit peckish."

Spike smiled at the use of his words coming from Buffy's lips.  Some thought that he was a bad influence on her, but from his point of view, he was enjoying the Buffy standing in front of him.  One that actually cared about him.  There must be a god, after all.  "Yeah.  Food sounds good right about now."

Buffy and Tara walked back inside, Spike and Dawn following closely behind.  It was then that Spike noticed the absence.  "So, where's Willow?"

While Spike had wanted to see Dawn, he had also wanted to see Willow.  While the rest of the group felt confident that she was okay to be around, even harmless, Spike had to make sure.  The last time he had seen Willow, she was trying her damnedest to snuff out this little ball of dirt that they lived on.  Thing was, Spike was almost certain that she wanted it.  Not just the power that had seized Willow that night, but the innocent, bookish Willow as well.  And, until he was sure, Spike couldn't let his guard down as long as he was here.

Tara answered Spike's query, sensing the subtle change in his mood.  "Um, I think she's still at the library.  But, she'll be back any minute now."

"That's fine.  I think we can survive without her for a bit.  What do you say, pet?"

Tara nodded as Buffy and Dawn headed toward the kitchen, most likely to order takeout.  Tara spoke as she followed the sisters into the kitchen.  "Well, for a bit."

As Spike closed the door behind him, he couldn't help but shake that ominous feeling in his head that something bad was bound to happen.

Cordelia knew that she shouldn't be checking up on Angel.  He was a big boy.  He could handle himself.  So, why did she think that he'd do something stupid by going back to Sunnydale?  Like rekindling his relationship with Buffy.  "Shut up, brain."

She knew that it couldn't happen.  They both lived in different worlds now.  Each had their own, separate life to live.  But, that nagging voice in the back of her head kept on saying 'what if'.  Cordelia sighed as she scrolled through the names on her call list, hitting the appropriate button once Angel's name was highlighted by the neon green bar.  As she brought the phone to her ear, she muttered to herself as the phone continued to ring.  "Green button, Angel.  Push the green button."

It was amazing, in a Forrest Gump type of way.  He had lived numerous lifetimes.  Saw the world change firsthand as it rose from the Renaissance to the Industrial Age to today.  Acquiring vast amounts of knowledge, yet he couldn't figure out how to operate his cell phone.  As Cordelia smiled at the thought of Angel fumbling with the keys of his phone, the ring tone ceased, Angel's voice replacing it instead.  "Yeah?"

"Hey, Angel."

"Cordy?  What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong.  Just wanted to know if you're there yet."

Cordelia knew the answer even before Angel answered.  She could hear the car engine in the background, the turbulence of the wind causing Angel to essentially shout into the receiver.  "Not yet.  I'm just about to enter into Sunnydale, though."

"That's good to hear.  So, you remember what we talked about earlier?"  The noise startled Cordelia, she raising her head to see Fred walking into the office, a timid smile on her face.  Cordelia returned the smile as Fred plopped down into a chair, looking on as Cordelia spoke on the phone.  "Don't make me regret not coming with you."

"Don't worry, Cordy.  I promise.  I won't go in guns blazing."

"Oh, great.  You're strapped now."

Angel chuckled at his friend's sarcasm, oozing through her voice.  "It's a figure of speech, Cordy."

"Well, let's hope that's all it is."

"Promise.  Look, I'm about to get on the off ramp so I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay."  Cordelia gently sighed as she continued.  "Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful, okay?"

Angel contemplated the question, the worry in her voice evident.  After a moment of silence, Angel responded.  "I will.  It's just Spike.  So don't worry, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good.  I'll talk to you later, then."

"Bye, Angel."

With that, Cordelia ended the call, dropping the phone onto the desk.  Fred looked at her with curiosity, seeing that this little trip to Sunnydale was upsetting Cordelia to no end.  Fred decided to run interference until Angel came back.  "So, Gunn and Lorne are having a boys' night out.  What's say we have our own?  Well, not a boys' night.  It'd have to be a girls' night.  And…"

Cordelia waved her hand in the air, indicating that she got the gist of Fred's statement.  "That sounds good right about now.  So, what'd you have in mind?"

"How about dinner that's high in calories as well as taste.  Then we go to the mall and splurge our paycheck."

Cordelia looked at Fred, uncertain if she was joking or not.  But, the smile on Fred's face made the answer obvious.  And, right about now, it seemed like the perfect distraction from Sunnydale.  "I'm game if you are."

Spike sat on the porch swing, half a cigarette between his lips, the other half as ash and soot on the floor.  While the ladies were happy to see him once again, his vice was another matter.  So, here he sat, outside.  In the cold.  Just so he could get some of that noxious yet sensuous smoke into his lungs, the nicotine calming his nerves.  The tar and other additives doing God knows what else.

While being welcomed into the fold felt rather pleasing, he had to admit that the moments of solitude had their positives as well.  Such as thinking about the future.  A future, which involved one Buffy Summers.

Ever since he'd been back in Sunnydale, even back when he bought it from the jewelry store, Spike was uncertain what to do with the small velvet covered box.  What if she didn't feel the same way he did?  What if he was rushing things?  What if she said no?

Spike sighed, exhaling another lungful of smoke into the night air.  He dropped the remnants of the cigarette onto the floorboards of the porch, his boot snuffing out any remaining embers.  She seemed happy enough to see him when he first showed up at the apartment.  Well, that wasn't true.  She was pissed because she found out from Xander (mental note:  have a talk with the 'boy' about keeping secrets) that he wasn't coming back to Sunnydale.  But, once she found out the truth, she was rather amenable.

Okay, so that really wasn't the best way to describe it.  Before they knew it, they were all over each other, like a couple of lovelorn teenagers, enjoying a moment of privacy from the prying eyes of suspecting parents.  It must have been a hell of a snog, because Spike still couldn't recollect how he ended up in bed with Buffy the next morning.

But, that wasn't what was bothering Spike at the moment.  It was the future.  What if they couldn't make it work?  After all, the other men in her life had been better suited for Buffy than he could ever be.  Even that ponce Angel.  They all had one thing that he lacked.  A soul.  Spike thought about that for a moment, realizing that he'd have to check on that once Giles arrived in Sunnydale.

What if he had a soul now?  But, it didn't feel like anything had changed.  He seemed to be the same bloke he was before things went down with Willow.  If he did have a soul, wouldn't he be all broody like the royal ponce?  After all, once Angel got his soul back, it was all 'Forgive me' this and 'I'm sorry' that.  Spike knew that he had his own sins, but he accepted the fact that they were in the past.  Not much one can do to change the past, now is there?

As he contemplated that thought, the sound of footsteps on the sidewalk alerted Spike, stirring him from his thoughts.  Upon looking up, Spike hesitantly smiled as he spoke to the figure walking toward him.  "Hullo, Willow."

"Uh.  Hi, Spike."

They both remained silent, neither knowing exactly what to say.

He stood across the street, looking upon the building that had come to symbolize everything that he hated.  The evil that it represented.  The remembrance of the man that had taken his father's life.

As Connor stood unmoving, the night wind gently tousling his hair across his brow, he noticed that the building was empty.  The demon's car was absent, as was his whore's SUV and the ratty pick up truck.  It would be so easy to hurt them now.  With a simple spark, the building would be in flames in but an instant.  But, that wasn't his way.

He wanted to hurt the demon, just as he had hurt Connor.  By taking away what the monster held most dear.  So, that was how Connor eventually came to his conclusion.  Kill the demon's bitch, and he'd be hurting just as much as Connor was at this moment.

It was clear that there was something between them.  Something more than friendship.  He saw it when he was initially invited into their sanctum, as the demon's son.  But, his father told him the truth.  Evil would try to entice him with pretty things.  And that was the truth, because he had almost fallen into the vampire's trap.  Had almost started to care about the demon that thought it was his father.

Connor flinched at the possibility.  While Holtz had been caring, nurturing and supportive of him, he was also human.  So, how was it possible for Connor to have such strength and speed when his father displayed no such abilities at all?  Maybe he got these gifts from his mother.  But, that would have to remain a mystery because Holtz had never spoke about his mother.  Instead, he thought it better that the less Connor knew about his past, the better.  But, the similarity still remained.

That he was just like Angel.  God, even the name felt like a nest of thorns in his mind as he thought it.  But, he couldn't dismiss the fact that he fought like Angel.  Displayed his agility, his quickness.  But, so did other things that supposedly went bump in the night.  Connor's time in this dimension had quickly alerted him to that fact as he encountered the denizens of Los Angeles, the human and not so human side.

As Connor tried to convince himself that it was merely coincidence that linked him and Angel, a scream from the nearby alleyway got his attention.

"Help me!  Oh, God.  Help me!"

Connor's feet moved instinctively, his brain processing the external stimuli almost as though it was second nature.  While he was content to simmer in his rage while standing in front of the Hyperion, someone else was in trouble.  So, his problems were put to the wayside until the situation was dealt with properly.

He ran with the grace of a gazelle, turning the corner just as deftly.  However, the sight was one he would have never expected.  Instead of a simple mugging or an indistinct street brawl, the view that graced Connor's gaze was something much more foreign.

The woman running past him, her clothes torn and tattered, paid him no mind as Connor stood in the alleyway.  He looked on, almost dumbfounded as the man yelled in pain, the stranger standing in front of him. While Connor would have dismissed this as an ordinary mugging, the eerie glow emanating from between them indicated otherwise.  Connor snapped from his daze, beginning to move toward the two individuals.  He leapt toward the one standing, the other one now falling to his knees, the shrill scream becoming weaker.

While the impact would have been more than enough to propel a normal person through the opposite wall, Connor gasped in surprise as he bounced off the man's attacker, wincing as he held his arm.  As Connor fell to the ground, his new position in relation to the two men allowed him to finally see what was causing the victim so much distress.

The glow was emanating from the man's chest; the attacker's hand plunged into it, the bright light slowly dissipating in conjunction to the scream's intensity.  Connor pushed his way back up to his feet; his tender arm nestled close to his body as he began another attack on the assailant.  However, the voice stopped him in his tracks, the tone making Connor feel uneasy.  "I wouldn't bother if I were you.  I'm done here."

With that, the stranger's hand slowly emerged from the man's chest, no evidence of a wound present as he slumped to the ground, his eyes white, the irises now vacant from the victim's gaze.  Connor stood at alert, ready for the man to attack him.  Instead, the man gently smoothed out his brown overthrow, his silver hair glistening in the moonlight.

"You just killed that man."

"I know."

"But why?"

The man turned around, now facing Connor who still stood in a defensive stance.  "Because he deserved it."

Connor lowered his good arm; looking at the stranger with a voice that resonated in his head, the deepness of the tone making his hair stand on end.  "Deserved?  I don't understand."

The stranger spoke in a gentle voice, obviously trying not to confront Connor.  "He just tried to rape that woman that ran past you.  I stopped him."

"By killing him?"  Even scum, such as the man laying at the stranger's feet, deserved better than the fate that had befell him.  "You could have just stopped the rape."

"And what?  Allow him to rape someone else?  Maybe someone you know, perhaps?"

Connor answered almost immediately.  "I don't have anyone."

The stranger considered Connor's answer, looking at him with eyes that were deep blue, the color complementing the man's hair.  To say that Connor felt uncomfortable under the man's gaze would be an understatement.  It was as if Death himself was peering into his soul.  Before Connor could voice his concern, the stranger spoke.  "You've been to Quortoth?"

Connor stepped back, somewhat in shock at the question.  The only people that knew of his time in the hell dimension were his father, the demon, and its friends.  The fact that the stranger that now standing in front of him knew of his past as well bothered Connor to no end.  "Who have you been talking to?"

"No one."

"Then how do you know about Quortoth?"

"I can still smell it on you.  You reek of Hell."  Connor looked at the stranger, a confused look on his countenance.  "But, you're not a hellspawn.  How did you survive such an existence?"  Connor answered truthfully, his gaze never wavering.

"Hate."

Connor expected the stranger to be surprised by the answer.  Instead, the man just smiled, his eyes growing soft.  "I can help you, Connor.  If you let me."

Yet another surprise from the stranger.  "How do you know my name?"

"There are many things that are known to me, young Connor."  The stranger walked over to Connor, the young man now returning to a defensive stance.  Instead of taking Connor's body language negatively, the stranger continued to smile his welcoming smile while his hand gently lifted Connor's chin so their eyes locked.  "Like your hatred for the vampire.  The one with a soul."

"You know Angel?"

The stranger nodded, continuing his speech.  "Let me help you, Connor.  All I ask for in return is your aid from time to time."  Connor began to shake his head, unsure of the proposal the man in front of him was making.  "I'll help you kill them all if you aid me in my quest."

"Why would you help me?"

The man spoke, his response coming almost as quickly as Connor's response to surviving Quortoth.

"Because I too have hate in my heart.  I know how it feels, not being able to unleash that hate.  Having it eat away at your being."  Connor nodded, identifying with the stranger's dilemma.  "But, I think we can help each other, young Connor.  If you'll allow me."

Connor remained silent, taking in the stranger's words.  Finally he nodded agreement, the stranger nodding in return.  With that, Connor spoke, his query breaking the silence.  "Who are you?"

The man simply smiled as he spoke.  "I'm known by many names.  But you can call me Dante."

The silence filled the night air, both still unsure of what to say.  Willow stood on the walkway, tightly gripping the book in her hand while Spike's foot began to rapidly move across the floorboard.  After a moment, Spike initiated the eventual conversation.  "Have a sit, luv.  I think we need to talk."

Spike slid to the end of the porch swing, his arm motion indicating to Willow to sit next to him.  Willow timidly smiled as she began making her way up the steps.  "Yeah."

Willow carefully sat down next to Spike, making sure she left enough room between them to create that certain 'personal boundary'.  As she got herself situated, Spike spoke.  "So, how've you been?"

"Okay, I guess.  Been napping for about four months.  But other than that, I'm fine and dandy."  Spike gently chuckled at her remark as Willow returned the question.  "And you?"

"Oh, you know.  The usual.  Think I might have been dead but I'm not quite certain of that anymore."

"You don't think you were dead?  But I…"

Spike stopped her train of thought, knowing that there was no reason to drudge up the past.  "Wasn't you, pet.  It was the magic."

Willow sighed as she spoke.  "You know, Buffy said the same thing."  She gently chuckled as she continued.  "Kinda scary, huh?"  Spike tilted his head at her, unsure of her question.  Willow saw the confusion on his face, explaining herself.  "You two actually agreeing on something."

Spike nodded agreement at Willow's observation.  "Yeah.  That kinda took me by surprise, myself.  What's the world coming to when a Slayer and a vampire agree?"

"So, you're a vampire, then?  Is that what you found out in England?"

Spike shook his head, indicating the negative.  "Not quite.  Not sure what I am, actually.  But I'm not a vampire.  That much is certain."

"Oh."

The silence overcame them once again, the awkwardness replacing the initial comfort rather quickly.  Both pushed against the floorboard in unison, the porch swing gently swaying in the night.  The gentle squeak of the chain against the hinge rhythmically filled the silence, allowing Willow to take some comfort in the silence and the fact she was sharing it with Spike.

She had expected a flood of guilt and shame to overcome her while he berated her, blaming her for his death.  Instead, Spike merely sat there, wanting to know about her well-being, no hint of hatred or contempt in his voice.

"Spike?"

"Yeah, pet?"

"Thank you."

Spike sat up a bit, tilting his gaze toward the woman sitting next to him, still not trusting his hearing.  "What was that?"

"I said thank you."

"Yeah, I got that.  But why?"

Willow sighed, realizing that she'd have to explain herself once again.  Her fingers moved to her neck, gently tracing the scars that would be her constant reminder of what Spike had done to her.  Done for her.

"You stopped me before I did something I'd have no way to come back from."  Spike nodded, understanding what she meant, remembering that night in the cemetery.  "But Amy's always going to be there, isn't she?"

Spike answered truthfully.  "'Fraid so."

Willow frowned at the announcement, her hands now resting in her lap as Spike continued to gently move the swing with his legs.  "Is there any way to stop the hurt?"

"I don't think I'm the right one to ask, pet."  Spike stopped the motion of the swing, his arm resting on the wooden armrest.  "Killed a lot of people in my day.  But remorse was never my strong suit."

"So, you just don't care?"

"Didn't say that."

"Then what do you do mean?"

"Just because I killed people doesn't mean I didn't care.  That was more Drusilla's style.  I respected most of the people I preyed on.  I mean, here they were, living a life that I'd given up on.  I almost admired them because…"  Spike took a long breath before speaking once again.  "…because they had the strength to live in this buggering cesspool called life when I didn't."  

Willow looked at Spike, his words hanging in the air while the realization of Spike's confession finally registered.  Spike continued, trying to maintain his composure.  "Look, I'm just saying, you might or you might not get over Amy's death.  But, why let it take over what you are?"  As Spike looked back out to the street; Willow gently rocked the porch swing this time.  "Why complicate your life with the mistakes of the past when living in the here and now is so goddamned hard as it is?  Right?"

"Right."

"Right, then."  Willow smiled at Spike as she turned her gaze toward the street as well.  The moon was full, illuminating most of the darkness along Revello Drive.  After another moment of silence, this one more comfortable than the previous ones, Spike's voice filled the void.  "You know, I have to ask you this.  Yeah?"

"It's okay.  I would if I were you, too."

Spike subtly nodded, asking his question.  "You doing the magic behind their backs?"

Willow answered quickly.  Quietly.  "No."

"Could be lying."

"Could be.  But you're going to have to trust me."

Spike contemplated Willow's words for a moment before speaking.  "I will, because of what you mean to them.  But, make no mistake.  You do wrong by them again, I won't hold back like I did last time."

"I know you won't."

Both turned their gaze to each other once again, understanding evident between the two.  Spike nodded at Willow, tilting his head to the front door.  "You should go inside.  The girls are still finishing dinner.  Think Tara saved you a plate."

Willow nodded as she rose from her seat.  As she walked past Spike, she turned back to look at him.  "She's lucky to have someone like you in her life.  I hope you realize that."

Spike gently chuckled as he waved his hand.  "Careful, Red.  Or I'm gonna think you actually like me."

Willow smiled at Spike before entering the house, leaving Spike once again alone on the porch.  As he reached for another cigarette from his pocket, a voice filled the air.  Spike stood up, not believing his ears as he heard the words.

"Almost brought a tear to my eye, Spike.  Too bad it was all lies."

Spike turned his gaze toward the sound of the voice, his eyes falling on the figure emerging from behind the oak tree.  The jacket may have been mistaken for someone else's.  Even the gait of his walk.  But there was no way anyone would wear their hair like that on purpose, shooting straight up to the moon like only his did.

Spike was about to make one of his typical witticisms; but Angel's face morphed quickly as he lunged toward Spike, his hands gripping the collar of Spike's shirt roughly.  So, Spike said the first thing that came to mind before Angel threw him against the tree with a force that shattered the side of the trunk, the splinters falling haphazardly onto the grass.

"Oh, sh…"

To be continued 


	3. Interview With A Bastard

Title:  Interview With A Bastard

Author:  Spike Speigel

E-mail:  spikespeigel26@yahoo.com

Rating:  R (Language and Violence)

Classification:  Buffy/Spike, Angel/Cordelia

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me because I don't have the imagination to even touch Mr. Whedon's.

Spoilers:  Sequel to Falling into You.  Anything's fair game from season six of BtVS and season three of AtS.  Special consideration to Intervention, After Life, Flooded, Life Serial.

Summary:  Where Angels Tread (III of XIII)

Status:  Finished

Spike lay on the grass, a feeling of disorientation overcoming him.  He opened his eyes, wondering why he was looking up at the stars.  His thought was quickly answered when the face came into view, those yellow eyes staring into his very being.  Spike could only guess that's what those eyes were doing.  He wasn't entirely sure because he couldn't take his eyes away from the poof's hair.  Did it actually get bigger?

"You know.  I'm gonna enjoy this."

Spike answered, not able to contain himself.  "What?  You run out of hairgel so you came to pinch mine?"

Angel growled as he bent over, yanking Spike up violently, slamming him against the trunk of the damaged tree.  "Well, I could think of worse last words.  But I was certain yours would have been more poetic."

"Yeah.  Well, if those are my last words, I can do better."

Angel contemplated Spike's sarcastic retort before lifting his hand from his side, his vampiric speed creating a blur.  However, Spike picked up on the motion, moving his hand in front of his chest as the stake plunged into his hand, blood spraying onto his shirt.  As Spike thought about the near fatal blow Angel had tried to deliver, Spike closed his hand about the stake, holding it mere inches from his heart as Angel continued to push against the barrier now in front of him.

Angel flashed a grin to the man pinned against the tree, enjoying the moment as he spoke.  "Didn't think you'd see that coming."

As the blood continued to freely pour from Spike's hand, he spoke.  "Well, I'm full of surprises."  Before Angel could reply, Spike's face quickly morphed, taking Angel aback at the gaze now looking back at him.

"Your eyes."

While Angel remained startled by Spike's vampire face with human eyes, Spike took advantage of the moment.  His forehead crashed against Angel's, the dark haired individual stumbling backwards.  Spike lunged forward, his shoulder squared as he slammed the brunt of his weight against Angel's chest.  Angel exhaled sharply, air escaping his lips as he was propelled into the air, falling painfully onto the ground.  Before Angel could get to his feet, Spike planted his knee against his chest, holding him secure as he spoke.

"Told you, mate.  I'm just full of surprises."

Angel's hand flew from his side, clenching Spike's throat with his fingers.  Spike moved just as quickly, the stake embedded in his hand now pressed against Angel's heart.  As Angel squeezed, his fingers breaking the skin about Spike's throat, he spoke.  "All I have to do is squeeze."

Spike sneered at the vampire, speaking in a deadly serious tone.  "And all I have to do is push."

Both men stood their ground, neither willing to give an inch.  As their gaze locked, hatred and contempt overcoming both, the light that now poured over their bodies got their attention.

"Angel!?!"

Both men turned to the porch of the Summers' household, Buffy standing in the doorway, the rest of the women behind her.  Angel's face slid back to his human countenance as he spoke, his grip now relaxing around Spike's throat.  "This isn't what it looks like, Buffy."

"Good.  Because it looks like you're about to rip Spike's throat out."  The women moved onto the front lawn, both Summers evidently angry at the scene now in front of them.  

Spike couldn't help but smirk at the man lying under his knee, reveling in the fact that Buffy was taking his side.  However, the smirk quickly vanished as Buffy yanked him away from Angel, forcefully pushing him backwards.  Spike winced at the motion, the stake embedded in his hand twisting under Buffy's handling.  Buffy recoiled at the tactile sensation of the warm fluid on her hand, finally realizing that Spike was injured.

"Spike?"

"S'nothing."

"That's not nothing.  Let me see."

As Buffy gently caressed Spike's arm, her free hand carefully examining the damage inflicted by the stake, Angel rose from the ground, confusion enveloping him.  Why would Buffy care if Spike were hurt?  Dawn moved over to her sister, examining the wound as well.  As Angel stood there, his confusion doubling at the sight of both women tending to the vampire, Willow spoke.  "So, what brings you back to town?"

Angel turned around, forgetting that Willow was also present.  And someone he didn't recognize.  "Business.  Had a lead I needed to follow up on."

Spike condescendingly replied upon hearing the reason his would be assassin was back in town.  "Oh, is that right?"  Spike pushed past the sisters, making his way over to where Angel now stood with Willow and Tara.  As he neared Angel's position, the raven-haired vampire morphed once again upon seeing Spike violently tearing the stake from his hand.  With one deft move, he tossed the bloodied stake to the ground, his body now a blur as he grabbed hold of Angel's face.  The blood smeared across Angel's face as Spike pushed him down upon the ground once again, the anger evident in his tone.  "Must have been one hell of a lead if you came all this way just to kill me."

Angel wiped his forearm across his face, trying to resist the urge to bring his blood-smeared skin to his lips.  "Not like I ever needed a reason to kill you, you son of a…"

Buffy's words interrupted the conflict, her mind trying to comprehend what exactly was happening.  "Shut up, Angel!  Both of you!"

Spike gingerly flexed his wounded hand, noticing that the bleeding had slowed even though it had been mere minutes since it was inflicted on his person.  As Spike focused on this observation, Buffy continued.  "What do you mean he tried to kill you?"

Spike frowned as he held his hand up in front of his face, his eye peering through the hole that was once occupied by the stake.  "I'm sorry.  I guess he slipped when he pulled the stake out of his pocket."  Spike sighed in disgust when he saw the look of confusion that now graced Buffy's countenance.  Even after all they'd been through, she still had trouble trusting him.  Of course she wouldn't trust him.  Not with Angel here.

Spike turned around, beginning to walk away from the group still collected on the lawn, when Buffy called out to him.  "Where are you going?"

"What's it look like?"  Spike didn't mean to snap back at her, but given the circumstances, he felt like he had every right to be rightfully pissed at the moment.  "I'm going home.  You let me know once that wanker's gone.  Or better yet.  Don't."  Angel lunged from the ground, Spike's words hitting a nerve.  However, as Angel closed in on Spike, he stopped in his tracks, dropping to his knees in pain.  Spike effortlessly withdrew his elbow, pulling it back to his body.  He never turned around as he continued to move away from the house, muttering to himself.  "Probably need a goddamned shot."

Buffy began to call out to Spike, but the hand on her shoulder got her attention.  Buffy turned her gaze to the side, Willow now standing next to her.  "You better let him go.  I don't think talking's going to get you anywhere right now."  Buffy turned her gaze back to the sidewalk as Spike began to disappear across the horizon.  Her eyes fell on Angel as he picked himself up, shaking his head as though he was trying to clear it of flotsam.

He turned around, making his way back to the women on the lawn, a slight grin on his face as he spoke.  "Sorry about that, Buffy.  Why you keep him alive, I'll never…"

Angel never got the chance to finish his sentence, though, mainly because of the punch that landed against his nose from a very pissed off Slayer.  Angel laid in the street, nursing his split lip as Buffy turned around, marching back to the house, anger permeating every fiber of her being.

The man had been looking at her for over an hour.  While the other women at the bar had gladly left their seats once their companions greeted them, with a kiss and some playful dialogue, she remained.  Looking down at the drink in front of her.  Not nursing it, mind you.  Because in order to nurse it, she'd have to actually take a sip from it first.  No, instead she just sat there.  Waiting for God knows what.

But that didn't matter to the man sitting at the other end of the bar.  All that mattered was that she was alone.  That no one noticed her.  And those that did notice her, she promptly dismissed with a quick smile and a subtle shake of her head.  No one would possibly notice if she disappeared.  Just like the fourteen other women before her.

All he had to do was bide his time and wait for the right moment.  He hadn't gotten this far by being careless.  That just wasn't an option for good ol' Nick.  One slip and he'd be discovered.  He and his dirty little habit.  While the first one had been an accident (Really.  Who the hell breaks their neck from falling down a flight of stairs.  No, not a flight.  More like a speed bump.), Nick couldn't help but notice the feeling that surged through him as he stood over her, that look of shock and fear on her face as she lay on the ground.  Lifeless.  And not able to call him a loser anymore.  Not able to insult him anymore.  Not able to hurt him with her words anymore.

But, what if it was a fluke?  A one-time experience in his rather mundane life?  So, Nick did what any other inquisitive person would do at such a crossroads.  He tried it again.  And again.  And again.  It wasn't until the fifth woman (Judy?  Julie?  What was her name?) that Nick finally identified the feeling that encompassed his person after punishing them.  The feeling was confidence.  Superiority.

And it was something that Nick couldn't live without.  Not now.  So, that's why he sat at the other side of the bar, waiting and watching.  Waiting to exact his vengeance on those that would belittle him.  Waiting for that high that got him through the next moment.

As Nick reveled in his thoughts, he caught the movement from the corner of his eye.  Something had gotten the young woman's attention because she casually stood from the bar stool, making her way through the crowd of patrons and…  Nick couldn't help but laugh slightly at the turn of events that he was now experiencing.  While he would normally have to follow them until they were alone, this woman was making it way too easy for him.  Because she was now leaving the bar by means of the side exit.  The same exit that connected to the alley in the back.

Nick ruefully smiled at his good fortune as he dropped a twenty on the bar to cover his tab.  He continued to smile, anticipating the rush he was about to experience once he entered the alleyway.  The rush of knowing that he was better than her.  The rush of knowing that he'd experience another sunrise while this woman with the scarlet red hair wouldn't.

He pushed the door open, slowly, methodically, and peered out into the alleyway.  She wasn't even making it a challenge.  Instead, she just stood in the middle of the alleyway, far enough from the outlet to cover any screams she would undoubtedly release once he got his hands on her.

As the door clicked behind him, Nick casually sauntered over to the woman, his hand gently patting his pants pocket to make sure the bundle of silk was still there.  It was a memento to celebrate his first victim.  While the first death had been an accident, he wanted the second one to be special.  So he waited until she went up to her apartment.  He stood under her bedroom window, looking at her from across the street as she undressed, the blinds wide open.  She had moxie, that one.  Nick even remembered her name.

He whispered it over and over in her ear as he held her down, ripping away her panties.  Monica.  The name rolled off his tongue as he savored the feeling of her underneath him, struggling, thrashing.  But then she started to scream.  That loud, shrill sound.  Like the sound of death.  So, he did the first thing that came to mind.  He wrapped the silken fabric around her throat, pulling it taut as it restricted her airflow.  Monica.  Her eyes were so beautiful as she looked at him, a look of hate and shock filling them.  It was in that moment that Nick knew that this was right.  That final gasp and that look in their eyes.  It was all that he ever needed.

Nick grinned at the memory, quickening his pace toward the red-haired woman that just stood in the middle of the alleyway, looking straight ahead as though there was something there to see instead of an empty alley.  There was no one around and the thumping techno music pouring out of the club covered any sound that she would eventually make as he began his ritual.  So, Nick decided to take advantage of the situation.  He decided to have fun.

"Hey, honey.  What's a pretty girl like you doing out here all by your lonesome?"

Nick expected to see a woman that was a bit startled by the sudden question as she turned around to face him.  However, that didn't happen.  Instead, she remained stationary, her head now slightly tilted upward.  Amazing.  Even when he was the only one in the vicinity, he was still being ignored.  It really didn't matter much.  Because in a few minutes, he'd be the only living person still in the alleyway.

Still, because it didn't matter didn't mean it didn't hurt.  This wasn't supposed to happen.  This never happened.  Not since the first one.  But, as the woman stood there in the middle of the alley, ignoring him, Nick couldn't help but feel he was still that pathetic shell of a loser that women never noticed.  His feet moved faster as he closed the distance, the anger beginning to build.  How dare she ignore him?  Bitch must have a death wish, that's all.  And who was Nick to deny her that wish.

"Hey, bitch.  I'm talking to you."

That got her attention all right.  As Nick slowed his pace, the woman turned around, a look more befitting an annoyed person instead of an angry one now on her face.  "I'm busy.  Go away."

Nick couldn't help but chuckle at her words.  She had no idea how busy things were about to get.  "Why?  The party's about to start."  As the woman with the fiery red hair eyed him, a hint of confusion on her face, Nick slipped his hand into his pants pocket.  Once his hand encircled the bundle of fabric, he slowly pulled it out of his pocket, balling the material into his hand.  "Got something for you."

Before the woman knew what was happening, Nick ran toward her, slamming her against the wall of the club.  The fabric unwound in his hand, his other taking the free end.  With one deft move, he wrapped the silken noose about the woman's neck, not realizing that she never struggled.  Instead, she looked on as Nick began to pull the material taut, his body pressed against hers.

His breathing began to become erratic as he relished the feel of the woman pinned against him, his fingers enjoying the sensation of the panties against her neck, stealing her essence.  Her life.  As Nick began to lose himself in the experience of claiming another victim, the laughter brought him back to reality.  His eyes blinked in amazement as the woman's laughter continued, a hint of amusement evident in her eyes.  This was definitely a first for Nick.  "What the hell are you laughing at?!?"

The uncharacteristically calm and composed woman spoke, a hint of joy in her voice.  "Are you having a bad day, or what?"

Nick backed off slightly upon hearing the words, not a trace of fear or panic in them.  "What are you doing?"

The answer came quickly.  "Getting the requisite sympathy out of the way."  As Nick stood there, puzzlement overcoming him, a pain exploded across his chest as he stumbled backward.  When the pain became bearable, Nick looked up at the woman who was flexing the fingers of her right hand; the panties now bundled in her left.  "Still haven't gotten used to how fragile you people are."

Nick groaned as the words escaped between his lips.  "Those are mine."

"Don't think so.  Unless your name's Monica."  Nick stared in horror as the name hovered unseen in the night air.  "You like it when they struggle, don't you?  You get off on it, don't you, you sick bastard.  Isn't that right, Nicky?"  His horror grew at the declaration of his name.

"Who are you?!?"

The woman dropped the silken fabric to the ground as she walked closer to Nick, who began to step backwards, stumbling onto his knees as he did.  Before he knew what was happening, the woman's hand wrapped about his neck, pulling him back to his feet.  Then she squeezed.  "How does it feel, Nicky?  Knowing that the life's leaving your body."  Nick gasped for air, his hands clawing at the woman's arm to no avail.  "How does it feel, stud?"

As the blackness began to surround Nick, a distant voice echoed in his head causing the woman to loosen her grip.  "Figures.  We finally find you and you're up to your old tricks."

Nick frantically gasped for much need air when the woman released him, falling onto his knees.  As he tried to wipe the tears now blurring his vision, the woman spoke.

"Gabriel."

"You know that we're not here for this.  Correct me if I'm wrong, Haruna."

"Yeah, yeah.  I know.  But I seem to be a magnet for the dregs around here."  Her eyes moved to the man kneeling on the ground, Nick trying to comprehend what was happening.  And, to think, she was supposed to be his easiest prey yet.  Guess Nick overestimated.  As Nick began to rise to his feet, a hand loudly clapped down on his shoulder.  Nick would have screamed had his throat not been as sore as it was.  Instead, he gasped sharply as the person behind him moved into his view.

"Well, you're looking none the worse for wear.  Thought you might not have made it, kid."

Haruna softly chuckled as she spoke, Nick trying to will his heart to slow down.  "You know, I'm older than you, Whistler."

Gabriel sounded off, his deep voice almost echoing through the alley as he spoke.  "We're all older than him.  He just thinks he's the oldest."

Whistler walked toward the duo, his hand adjusting his hat as he did so.  "Well, when you've seen the things I've seen, it tends to pile the years on you.  No one should have to suffer with the things I've seen."

"Who the hell are you people?!?"

The group turned to the source of the noise, their eyes falling upon one thoroughly confused and very agitated murderer.  Haruna nodded to herself as though she had just remembered something that needed to be done.  She gently pushed her way past Whistler, her pace quickening as she neared her attacker.  "I still need to deal with you, don't I Nicky boy."

As Nick angrily stood his ground, his mind still trying to comprehend what was happening and where exactly he lost control of the situation, Gabriel reiterated his stance.  "We're not here for this, Haruna."

"I know.  But if we walk away, there's no chance in hell this perverted psycho's not gonna stop.  Ain't that right, Nicky?"

There must have been something with the tone she was using with him, or maybe it was just the informality she now showed, throwing his name back at him as though he was an infant.  Either way, Nick couldn't handle the condescension anymore.  "My name is Nick, you bitch!"

He expected her to be offended by his language, by his tone.  Instead, Haruna just laughed at the situation.  It was at that moment that Nick no longer cared about his well-being.  They might have the numbers on him, but he'd be damned if he let this woman get out of the alleyway alive.

As Haruna's laughter wafted through the night air, Nick lunged himself toward the woman that had ruined his night.  Unfortunately, Haruna was quicker than he'd imagined, her hand coming violently down between his legs, constricting forcefully about what physically distinguished him as male.  Nick bellowed as the tears came freely from his eyes, the pain too much to bear.

"What's wrong, stud?  Lost your bite?"  Nick's eyes darted to the woman that now held him at her mercy, another jolt of pain coursing through his body once again as Haruna clenched her fingers tighter.  As Nick's eyelids flew shut, tears streaming down his cheeks, Gabriel made his thoughts known.

"What are you going to do, Haruna?  Castrate him?"

"Something like that.  Let's see how much damage this pecker can do without one."

"Yeah.  That's really gonna alleviate the rage he's got bubbling inside him."  Haruna looked over her shoulder, her grip still leaving Nick helpless.  As she looked back, Whistler nodded his head as though he was trying to persuade her verbally as well as physically.  She spoke, annoyance evident in her voice.

"He deserves this.  You know I'm right."  Her gaze fell on Gabriel, his massive height casting a shadow between Haruna and Whistler.  "So do you.  Hell, you lived for this stuff."

"Still do.  Doesn't change things.  We're not here for this."

Haruna's eyes darted from the towering mass to Whistler, a slight smirk evident on his face as he spoke.  "Gotta agree with the big man here, slugger.  Bigger and badder are the operative words for today."

Her grip reluctantly loosened, Nick falling onto his knees once again as his hands instinctively flew to his now oversensitive area.  Haruna sighed softly as she observed the shell of a man that now lay at her feet.  She couldn't just let this pathetic loser go.  He'd most likely continue on his spree, this time with more vigor after tonight.  Haruna knew she could never live with herself if another person died because of this man virtually sobbing between shallow breaths, his hands gingerly cupping his soreness.

But, she didn't have the time to spend on Nick.  There were more pressing matters at hand.  She had broken the rules to get this far.  And, she wasn't going to risk it all for some idiot that felt inadequate around members of the opposite sex.  But that nagging feeling was still in the back of her head that this idiot's actions in the future would come back to haunt her if she didn't do something.  And like that, almost akin to an epiphany, the answer came to her.

Nick's breathing came more steadily now, his eyes slightly opened as he continued to groan in pain.  However, the pain wasn't enough to curtail his anger, his mumbles floating through the alleyway.  "Gonna kill you, bitch.  Gonna kill you."  As Haruna grew in his view, he continued his mantra.  "Shoulda killed me.  Gonna kill you."  However, instead of focusing on his rage, he should have paid attention to Haruna's right hand.

Her voice was calm, yet judgmental, as she spoke.  "Hey, Nicky.  Say cheese."

As Nick looked up at the woman who had caused him so much grief, her hand moved in front of his face, an intense red glow emanating from it.  Nick moved his arm up to shield his eyes, his voice still hoarse but still in pain as he bellowed out.  Her two companions looked on, Gabriel shaking his head in disbelief as Whistler took off his hat, gently gripping the brim as he looked on.  When the glow abated, Haruna turned around, never looking back as she walked past the two men still looking at her in awe.

"We're done here.  Let's go."

Gabriel followed her out of the alleyway, the techno music still thumping through the walls of the club and into the alleyway.  Whistler hesitated for a bit, his gaze falling onto Nick as his screams continued.  After a moment, Whistler hung his head for the man left in the alleyway, knowing all too well the truth that Nick would continue to deny until his voice failed him.

Quickly placing his hat onto his head, Whistler never looked back as Nick's eyes continued to dart across the alleyway.  How could everything go so dark all of a sudden?  It didn't make sense to Nick.  That bitch did something to him.  That was it.  While Nick's eyes rapidly blinked, as though he was trying to remove some foreign matter from them, he finally realized that even though his throat was sore from his screams, he couldn't hear them.  The fact of the matter was, he couldn't hear anything as well.

Angel sat on the couch as Willow gently dabbed at his upper lip with a moist paper towel.  As the two former friends sat in the living room, Angel slightly grimacing at Willow's medical assist, his confusion filled the silence.  "Why is she mad at me?"

Willow gently smiled; easing the pressure she was applying to the cut upon seeing Angel's discomfort.  "I think Buffy should answer that question."

"Willow."

She looked into his eyes, the confusion more evident than ever.  Willow pulled the towel from his lip, carefully considering her response.  "Look, all I can say is that you messed up.  Big time."

Angel considered her words, his brow furrowing as he tried to piece together Willow's cryptic answer.  "What did I do?  I came back here to stop Spike.  That's all."

The confusion now extended to Willow, still not comprehending Angel's reason for coming back to Sunnydale.  "Wait.  Stop Spike?  Stop him from what?"

"From ending the world."

"What?"  She didn't mean to laugh, but the thought of Spike doing something that reprehensible seemed more foreign as she got to know him.  "Spike wouldn't do that."

"Oh yeah?  And you've got what?  His word?"

"More than that."  Willow's tone turned from a casual to serious one upon remembering that night in the cemetery.  Spike had been the one to save the world.  And she had been the one that tried to stop it.

Angel looked at her, a quizzical look on his face as he spoke.  "Care to clarify?"

Willow took a deep breath as she laid the paper towel onto the coffee table.  "He died while stopping me."  Angel looked at her, his look of confusion magnifying as the seconds ticked by.  "He stopped me from opening the gates to Hell."

"What?"  Willow gently tapped her knees with her hands as she moved from the coffee table, taking a seat next to Angel on the couch.  Angel turned his gaze to her, noting the look of distress now apparent on her face.  "Willow?  What happened?"

Willow looked at him, a small smile on her face as she spoke.  "After I brought Buffy back from…"  Angel nodded, Willow relieved that he understood.  That was one mistake that she'd never be able to make up to Buffy.  "Well, things started happening.  Buffy pulled away from us.  Xander started doubting whether or not he should marry Anya.  Dawn began to steal things.  Giles left.  Tara left me because I started to become addicted to the magic."

"And Spike was behind this?"

Willow sighed as she spoke.  "Boy, you really do listen to every third word, don't you?"  Angel tilted his head, his eyebrow raised in mock apprehension as Willow continued her narrative.  "Spike was…"  It would probably be better if Buffy told him about this part, so Willow deftly sidestepped the issue.  "Spike was, well, Spike."

"Figures."

Both friends shared a laugh before Willow continued.  "Well, with everyone going their separate ways, I started falling back to magic for comfort.  The problem was, I couldn't get enough.  I needed more.  I always needed more."  Willow turned her gaze downward, not wanting to look as Angel as she revealed her shame.  "So, with some help, I decided to open the Hellgate and siphon the energy from it, knowing that opening the gate would tear the earth apart."

The awkward silence remained in the air, Angel uncertain of whether he should say something or not.  Finally, he spoke.  "And Spike stopped you?"  Willow nodded.  However, there was still one part of her story that didn't add up.  "But, I thought you said Spike died?"

"He did."  Willow finally looked up as she spoke.  "I'm not really sure what happened because I just got up."

"Got up?"

Willow gently smiled as she realized that Angel didn't know about her previous condition.  "I was in a coma for three months."  As Angel tried to process this newly given information, Willow silently spoke.  "As far as I know, Tara did something to me that allowed Spike to attack me.  So, instead of the energy staying in me, Spike drained it out of me."

The realization finally registered.  "Spike drank from you."

"Yep."

"But, that much energy.  It would…"

Willow finished his sentence.  "…kill him."  Angel looked on as Willow began speaking again.  "Spike closed the gate.  Spike stopped Armageddon."  She gently exhaled, the last fact always lingering in the back of her mind.  "Spike saved my life."

Angel responded, a hint of dismay in his voice.  "Doesn't sound like the Spike I know."

"People change.  You, of all people, should know that."

He looked at Willow, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.  "What are you talking about?"

"Cordelia."

"Oh."  Angel didn't realize that he had bitten his lip until he tasted the blood upon his tongue.  "Oh."  He reached out for the paper towel, Willow looking on in surprise.  Angel pointed to his lip, indicating the reason for his action.  As he held the paper towel to his lower lip, Willow interrupted the silence.

"I know it's been a while since I've talked to her because of what's happened recently, but I could tell from our past conversations that she's changed.  And I'm guessing you're partly responsible."

Angel moved the napkin away from his lip; the material dabbled in his blood.  "Cordy's a good person.  She would have figured that out sooner or later."

Willow smiled at the observation.  While most of the group had been accustomed to calling Cordelia by her full name, Angel had used a nickname when speaking of her.  "Cordy, huh?"

Angel looked at Willow, a hint of confusion on his face.  As Willow's smile grew, Angel finally realized what was going through her mind.  "Wait.  It's not what you think."

"What isn't?"  Willow sat back, her grin still plastered on her face as her voice indicated only innocence while her mind reflected something more mischievous.

"Cordy and me."  Willow raised her eyebrow upon hearing the name again, Angel catching her nonverbal jab.  "Cordelia.  She's just a friend."

"I believe you."

Angel stumbled for a response, words failing him at the moment.  All the while, Willow just sat there, a grin on her face.  "Sure, we've gotten closer over the years, but that's all.  It can't be anything more or else…"  Willow nodded, indicating to Angel that she remembered the clause that came attached to his soul.  "Besides, we're just friends."

"You already said that."

Angel frowned, knowing that the only way to get out of this conversation would be to segue out of it.  Quickly.  "Um.  So, where's Buffy?"

Willow tilted her head toward the staircase.  "In her room.  Tara and Dawn are trying to calm her down."

The confusion arose once again as Angel spoke.  "I still don't know what I did wrong."

Willow smiled as she rose from the couch, heading into the kitchen to get something to drink.  "Don't worry.  You will."

As she disappeared through the archway, Angel remained on the couch nursing his lip as he pondered Willow's last words to him.

"That stupid, arrogant, self-centered jerk!"

"You forgot poncer."

Buffy eyed her sister as she continued pacing at the foot of her bed.  "Poncer?"

"Well, that's what Spike calls him.  I think it's because of the hair."

Tara smiled as Dawn's head lay against the witch's arm, both looking at Buffy from the confines of the bed.  "I know it's the first time I've seen him, but does his hair always look like that?"  Buffy looked at Tara quizzically, Tara clarifying her query.  "Is it supposed to stick up like that?"

Buffy's pace slowed as the words, a small grin emerging on her face.  "It does stick up, doesn't it?"

Tara responded quickly, light-heartedly.  "Well, unless my sense of direction's shot."

"Shoots up to the bloody moon, it does!"  Both women turned their gaze to Dawn who remained on the bed, a slight grin on her face as she tried to do her best Spike impersonation.  Before they knew it, the laughter filled the room, Buffy doubling over at the image of Spike saying those words, Tara and Dawn chortling on the bed.

As the laughter subsided, Buffy managed to straighten herself back to a standing position, her arms now folded about her chest.  "Spike didn't really say that, did he?"

"Uh huh."  Dawn sat up on the bed, her legs folded beneath her as she spoke.  "I asked him once about Angel.  I knew I had memories of him, but I never really met him since I was this glowy Key thing."  Buffy nodded as Dawn continued.  "So, I asked him to tell me about Angel."

"When was this?"

Dawn continued looking forward, trying to recollect the moment.  "After Glory tortured him.  I'd go over to his crypt and make sure he was okay."

Buffy nodded as she finally realized the truth.  "So, that's why you were late from school those few weeks.  I always wondered why Janice never got tired of you going over to her place."

Dawn mockingly frowned at her sister as she continued her story.  "Well, after a while, it got comfortable being around Spike.  Knowing what he did for me."  Tara nodded as Buffy gently smiled at the image of Dawn and Spike sharing a moment.  "So, we'd talk about things until one day I asked about Angel."

"What did he say?"

Tara chimed in, her curiosity getting the better of her.  "Yeah?  I can't imagine it'd be anything flattering."

Dawn propped her elbows on her lap as she leaned forward, her chin nestled in the cups of her hands.  "It was weird.  I knew there was this animosity between the two of them, but Spike never said a bad word about Angel.  Besides the crack about the hair, it sounded like Spike almost envied Angel."

This time it was Buffy's curiosity getting the better of her.  "What makes you say that?"

Dawn looked up at her sister, her voice soft as she spoke.  "His voice.  The tone of it.  He was so sad whenever he spoke about Angel."  Dawn paused for a moment before speaking again.  "I think he was jealous of the fact that you loved Angel but didn't love him."

Buffy opened her mouth slightly, but quickly closed it as she realized the ramifications of Spike's last words to her as he left the front yard earlier that night.

_I'm going home.  You let me know once that wanker's gone.  Or better yet.  Don't._

"Oh, God."  Buffy quickly moved to the bed, grabbing her jacket as she moved to the bedroom door.  Tara called out to her as she began to turn the handle.

"What's wrong, Buffy?"

She briefly looked back before continuing out into the hallway.  "I think Spike just broke up with me."

Angel rose from the couch as he heard the footfalls on the steps.  As he walked through the archway connecting the living room to the front door, Buffy came into view.  She was too occupied with putting on her jacket to notice that Angel was now standing by the foot of the stairs.

"Buffy?"

Buffy looked down at the voice, Angel now standing in front of the stairs, blocking her way.  "Angel, I have to go.  We can talk later."

Angel gently chuckled at the words.  "Later?  But we have to find Spike and stop him."

To say that Angel's words angered her would be an understatement.  Before Angel knew what was happening, Buffy grabbed him by the shirt collar, slamming him against the wall.  "Look.  I don't know why you have this hard-on for Spike, but you have no idea what's happened here this past year.  So, find out all the facts so you can stop putting your foot in your mouth!"

Angel remained speechless as Buffy moved past him and out of the front door.  However, as soon as the door slammed closed, Angel snapped out of his reverie, moving quickly through the door and after her.  "Buffy, wait!"

Unfortunately for Angel, she did no such thing.  Instead, she continued her insistent pace down the sidewalk toward Spike's apartment complex, that small nagging voice becoming a deafening scream the more she thought about Spike's last words to her.

_Or better yet.  Don't._

What could he have possibly meant by that?  It wasn't like Spike had thrown up a bunch of five dollar words when saying goodbye earlier that night.  You know those words.  The same words your professor used to solely complicate the lecture when he could have gotten from point a to point b just by using common sense instead of flaunting his enormous intellect, even though everyone around him already knew he was something of a genius.  The 'Dr.' in front of his name was kind of a hint.

Instead, Spike had used four simple, commonplace words.  The problem that Buffy faced at the moment was with the combination they had been used.  After everything they had been through the past few months, would Spike honestly think she'd throw it away because of…

"Would you just stop?"

Buffy didn't even realize that Angel was standing in front of her until he spoke.  Stupid heightened speed.  How come Slayers didn't get that as part of the package, anyway?  Buffy feared the day when a vampire would put two and two together and actually get four.  In her case, discovering that their vampiric speed was one attribute she wasn't actually well matched against.  Luckily for her, the nightlife of Sunnydale tended to be a bit on the 'special' side.  Probably something in the water as it seeped through the cemetery grounds.

However, that was the last thing on her mind.  Right now, Buffy had to get to Spike's apartment and make certain that she was just imagining the whole incident as it played out earlier that night.  Unfortunately, there was one obstacle in her way at the moment.

"I don't know why you're mad at me, but I'm on your side here."

Buffy sighed in frustration, realizing that she wasn't going anywhere.  Not until she finished having her mandatory 'talk it out' with Angel.  "It's complicated."

"Then why don't you explain it to me."

As Buffy's shoulders slumped, Angel could see that she wasn't in a talkative mood right about now.  In fact, when they had met after her death, she didn't talk much that night as well.

Instead, she just sat across from him in that filthy diner that doubled as a truck stop, her arms folded in her lap as her french fries lay in front of her, unattended.  She just sat there as Angel spoke.

On the phone, she sounded as though she had missed him.  That she needed him.  But as she sat across from him, the wooden table covered with a glass panel and metal siding wasn't the only thing separating them.  Angel could see that from her eyes; she seemed so far away.  As though she wasn't even there with him.

However, Angel continued to fill the silence, recounting the past year for her.  While he skipped over the less wholesome parts such as ravaging Darla, lighting her and Drusilla on fire, and leaving a room of lawyers locked away to face certain death, he nevertheless told her about his year.  Merely because he didn't know what else to say.

She looked so different than the last time he saw her.  Her eyes reflected a maturity that he never noticed when he still lived in Sunnydale.  As though she was carrying the weight of the world.  As he continued to recall the events of the past year, Buffy finally spoke, either because she was genuinely curious or she was getting tired of his monotonous voice.

"How's Cordelia?"

"She's good.  It was a little touch and go at first, but she's okay."

"Touch and go?"

Angel awkwardly smiled, his lips slightly tugging to one side as he realized that Buffy had no idea what Cordelia had been through over the past year.  With Doyle passing his gift from the Powers to Cordelia, she had become their contact to whatever dangers the Powers deemed actionable.

"Well, let's just say Cordy's not the same person you knew back in high school."

"What?  You mean she's not a total bitch anymore?"  Angel just stared at Buffy, his mouth hanging slightly open upon hearing the words.  Did Buffy just insult Cordelia?  That's when he saw it.  The corner of her mouth pulled slightly upward, a small chuckle escaping her lips.  "Kidding."

He sighed slightly, partly at the fact that Buffy was acting somewhat like herself and partly because Buffy didn't really insult Cordelia.  While Buffy was his ex, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to sit with her now if she had really meant what she said about Cordelia.  Even though they were just friends, Cordelia deserved better.  "Glad to hear it.  So, how are you doing?"

The smile quickly disappeared from Buffy's face, the look of numbness reappearing once again.  Her hand slowly moved from her lap, a finger gently poking a fry, the heat long vacated, leaving behind a cold, stale remnant of what really embodied a french fry in the first place.  As she looked down at the plate in front of her, she gave her response.  The same one she had used with her friends.  With Giles.  "I'm good.  I'm here."

Angel looked at the woman he had once dedicated his entire life to, considering his words before he spoke.  "Buffy.  I remember what it was like when I came back.  How much it hurt."  He paused slightly, his hand moving across the table as it gently encircled her hand.  "If there's anything you need.  If you're in pain…"  He was about to continue his narrative, but the reaction that Buffy showed at that moment as her eyes quickly darted up to his, stopped his offer.  "What?"

"Nothing.  It's just…"  She stumbled for her words as though she didn't want to say what she was thinking.  "It's just, Spike already said this.  Well, not about the coming back from hell part.  Everything after that."

Angel considered her words, wondering what Spike was up to now.  Spike had always tried to kill Buffy, not to mention Angel when Buffy had sent the older vampire the Ring of Amara.  So, what was with this sudden bout of conscience?  Like he actually gave a damn?  "Buffy, I know it might sound like Spike cares about your well-being, but he's still a monster.  He doesn't have a soul."

"I know.  It's impossible to be good without a soul.  To love without one.  I remember what you were like without one."  Angel just looked at her, realizing what she meant, reminding him of a time when they weren't this friendly.  "I'm…I'm sorry.  I didn't mean it like that."

"It's okay.  You're right.  Without this soul of mine, I'm a bastard.  Jekyll and Hyde.  That's why you need to be careful around Spike.  Especially with all that's happened to you."

"I get it, Angel.  Flower pretty, Spike bad."  Angel gently chuckled at her comparison, a small smile playing on both their faces.  Before he could move the conversation along, Buffy spoke once again.  "Look.  I should get going.  Dawn needs me."

"Oh."  Buffy slowly pulled away from Angel's grasp, reaching into her pocketbook to pay for her portion of the meal.  "That's okay."  Before Buffy could object, Angel dropped a twenty onto the table before sliding out of the booth.  Buffy sighed in frustration as she realized that she didn't have enough to cover the bill anyway.  Not if she planned to take the bus back to Sunnydale at any rate.  With that, she followed Angel out of the diner and into the parking lot.

As Angel walked to his car, Buffy by his side, he spoke.  "You know, I can drive you home if you want."

"No.  It's okay.  I like being alone.  Gives me time to think."

Angel wasn't really sure what she meant, but he nodded agreement.  "My offer still stands.  You need anything…"

Buffy finished his thought.  "…I'll call.  Promise."

Angel solemnly smiled, the evident pain Buffy was going through tearing his heart to pieces.  He gently leaned over, placing a small kiss on her forehead before pulling away.  As he looked at her, he noted the same look of emptiness in her eyes, no hint of emotion apparent.  "Bye."

As Angel got into his car, Buffy just stood there, looking at him as though he was the most interesting thing in the world.  A moment passed as Angel turned over the engine, Buffy spoke.  "Bye, Angel."

With that, she turned away from him, making her way to the bus stop.  Angel watched her as she walked away, unsure of what he should feel at that moment.

"Angel.  Angel!"

The vampire blinked his eyes, Buffy's slightly annoyed voice tearing him away from his thoughts.  "What?"

"What?  Your mind kinda wandered there for a bit, didn't it?"

Angel meekly grinned as he spoke.  "I guess.  So, where were we?"

"Well, I was on my way to see Spike and you were going home.  Nice seeing you again.  Really."  With that, she clapped him on the shoulder before walking past him.  As Buffy began to make her way toward Spike's apartment once again, realization finally hit Angel.

"Hey!  Wait a minute."

Buffy slowed her pace, knowing that Angel would most likely block her way again if she continued to ignore him.  As the footfalls got closer, Buffy turned around.  "What is it now?"

Angel sighed in frustration as he spoke; not understanding the mood Buffy was currently in.  "Now?  First you belt me outside your house.  Then you literally tossed me against a wall.  Now you're acting like you want me dead.  I think I deserve an explanation."

Buffy nodded her head slightly, realizing that Angel was completely right.  The only reason he was acting like this was because he didn't know the whole story about Spike.  "You're right.  I'm sorry.  But there are things you don't know about Spike.  About what happened here."

"You mean him stopping Willow?"

Okay.  He did know everything.  And he was still acting like a jerk.  Buffy changed her mind upon hearing his query.  She was right.  "Among other things.  Look, I don't know how many times you prevented the world from utter annihilation."

Angel answered immediately.  "One if you count the Mayor.  Two if you count the time you threw me through the hellgate Acathala created."

Buffy stood there, anger beginning to build up inside her.  "One.  The Mayor was a chump compared to Glory.  And two.  You opened the gate.  And you forced me to close it."

She stood there, waiting for Angel to respond.  After a moment of silence, he spoke.  "I'm sorry, Buffy.  But why in God's name are you defending Spike?!?"

"Because someone should!"  Angel was taken aback by her tone, surprise now evident on his face.  "I know Spike's done things in the past.  Bad things.  But he's also done a lot of good.  And, what?  I'm supposed to ignore that just because he doesn't have a soul?"

"Yes."

Buffy's brow furrowed at the thick headedness Angel was now displaying.  "Just because you can't play nice without a soul doesn't mean everyone else can't."

Angel quickly responded, the tone in each other's voice reaching a livid pitch.  "I know Spike's suddenly become the flavor of the month around here, but he's still a monster when you get right down to it.  Seems you've forgotten that."

Buffy closed the distance between them, her finger poking into his chest.  "Yeah?  Well, how many monsters do you know that would keep a promise to take care of your sister after you died?  Huh?  What about looking after her when a hellgod was trying to cut her up just to bleed her dry?  How many monsters would just sit there and listen to your problems after you got ripped out of heaven, wanting nothing in return?  How many monsters, Angel?  How…many…monsters?!?"  The silence hovered in the air, neither sure of what to say.  Instead, they just looked at each other, wondering how they had gotten to this point.  "Look.  Spike's not the same person you remember.  Well, he is.  Point is, he's my friend.  And I stand by them, no matter what."

Angel nodded, thinking better than to instigate another fight.  He was here for a reason.  To stop Spike from whatever it was he was going to do.  But, with Buffy standing in the way, things just got a lot more complicated.  What if she was right, though?  Maybe Gunn and Fred got their facts mixed up.  Unlikely as that sounded in his head, he decided to give Buffy the benefit of the doubt.  "Okay.  But I still have to talk to him."  Buffy looked at him as though her words had fallen on deaf ears, frustration enveloping her entire being.  "Just to make sure.  I'm not going to leave Sunnydale until I'm absolutely sure Spike's not a threat."

Buffy solemnly nodded, realizing the truth in Angel's words.  "Okay."

"Okay.  Come on.  I'll drive us there.  My car's just around the corner."

Buffy walked with Angel, side by side, as she spoke.  "Glad to see you weren't stalking him."  Angel stopped walking as Buffy continued toward the car.

"I wasn't stalking."  With a humbled sigh, he continued after Buffy as he spoke.  "I was being stealthy."

Spike pulled the bandage down about his hand, inspecting the wound the stake had caused.  While most people would have gone to the hospital for such a traumatic wound, Spike didn't.  Mainly because the wound wasn't that big anymore.  In fact, the wound was now penny sized instead of stake sized.

The first time he noted this increased healing ability was when he was in England with Giles.  When the Fakkir demon…

"Rachid."

Spike remembered the demon's name.  And the pain Spike had apparently caused him when he was still with Drusilla.  While he didn't feel remorse for something done in his youth, he couldn't forget the sound of the Fakkir's voice as he accused Spike of ruining his life.  And the sensation that Rachid's mantis like claws invoked in Spike as they impaled his chest.

However, before Spike could even register the wounds, they had begun to close.  And that was without the aid of blood and his previous vampire powers.  So, the question that remained unanswered was how?

Sure, he still had his strength and speed, but vampires regenerated through the act of consuming blood.  So, how was he able to regenerate new body tissue?  And so damn quickly?  While Angel's wound hadn't been as serious as those from Rachid, Spike couldn't dismiss the fact that his wounded hand was healing faster than those inflicted by the Fakkir demon.  And that bothered him to no end.

Because that meant he wasn't human.  So, what the hell was he?  Spike frowned as the thought of siding with Doc crossed his mind.  Sure, Doc would have told him everything he needed to know.  But the price was too steep.  What good was information if it meant killing Buffy?  Before he could think of a response to his query, the knock at the front door got his attention.

"Who's there?"

"It's me, Spike."

Of course it was Buffy.  Who else would it be?  Not like anyone else knew where he lived, right?  "Go away."

The response came quickly, yet calmly.  "No.  Not until you open the door."

"So, you're saying if I open the door, you'll leave?  Then why'd you come here in the first place?"  He could hear Buffy sigh on the other side of the door.  Then silence.  As Spike began to think that Buffy had listened to him and left, the sound of a key sliding into the lock got his attention.  Spike pulled the bandage back over his wound, not wanting to field questions he didn't have answers to.  As he moved out of his room and into the living room, the front door swung open, Buffy walking into the apartment.  "Not really fair, luv.  I don't have a key to your place."

"Later.  We need to talk."  She was all business as she closed the door behind her.  That much was evident by her tone.  "How's your hand?"  As she closed the distance between them, Spike began to move his hand behind his back, wanting to hide it from her.  However, Buffy gently grabbed his arm before he had a chance to move.  While he expected her to ask about what had happened in the front lawn, she surprised him by pulling his hand up to her lips, placing a gentle kiss across his knuckles.  "Does it hurt?"

"Not so much."

Buffy gently held Spike's wounded hand in her own, her thumb softly caressing the inside of his palm as she spoke.  "Angel needs to talk to you."

"Is that right?"  And there it was.  She was here because of Angel.  He was secondary.  "Well, you can tell him he can shove it where the sun don't shine.  Better yet, where the sun does shine."

"Spike…"

"No.  I think I've got the right to be vexed here.  Your boyfriend tried to kill me tonight!"

Buffy pulled his hand up to his chest, both their hands now resting there.  "He's not my boyfriend.  You know that."

"Yeah?  Seems like ever since he's gotten here, you've been taking his side."

"That's not fair, and you know it."

Spike pulled his hand away from Buffy as he walked toward the couch.  Buffy just stood there as Spike sat down, his brow furrowed.  "So, what?  It's okay for him to kill me then?"

"Stop putting words in my mouth.  I didn't say that."

Spike hung his head slightly, realizing that she was right.  This was all Angel's fault.  Why the hell did he have to come back anyway?  "What does he want with me?"

Buffy walked over to the couch, sitting next to Spike as she answered his question.  "He thinks you're going to be responsible for destroying the world."

"Of course.  Because what does one do after saving it?"

Buffy looked at him, a hint of amusement on her face.  "Well, I didn't say he made any sense."

"But you still believe him.  Innit right?"

She rested her head against his shoulder, the seriousness of the conversation beginning to wear her out.  "If someone told you that I'd be responsible for obliterating the world, wouldn't you err on the side of caution?"

His response startled her as he spoke.  "Course not.  I trust you with my life.  And if you thought destroying this world was a good idea, I'd back you up."

Buffy tilted her gaze toward him.  "You're not serious."

"Damn right I am.  Till the end of the world."

Buffy sighed as her hand found its way about his, gently squeezing.  "What am I going to do with you?"

"Well, I have a list if you're interested."  Buffy gently laughed as she squeezed his hand.

"I'd like that.  But we still have Angel to deal with."

Spike spoke, his voice in a hushed whisper.  "Do you really think I'd do something like that?  And ruin any chance of this to work?"

She answered truthfully, her tone now matching his own.  "You know I don't."

"But you'd feel better if you had proof to back up those words?  Yeah?"  Buffy nodded as she nestled herself into his side.  "Alright, luv.  What do you want to do?"

"Angel says there's some guy in L.A. that points the finger to you.  I say we go meet said person and clear up this whole mess."

"Well, I still have time off from work.  I guess Angel and I can sort things out with this person.  That is, if Angel doesn't try and kill me again."

Buffy moved away from Spike, sitting up as she spoke.  "I don't think you have to worry about Angel.  I told him that you mean a lot to me.  So, unless he's got a death wish…"

Spike interrupted Buffy, the shock still evident in his voice.  "Wait?  You told him about us?"

Buffy gently smiled as she answered his question.  "To an extent."  She took a deep breath as she began to explain her statement.  "When Angel found out Riley and I were…were…"

"Shacking up?"

"Nice."  Spike gently chuckled as Buffy continued.  "Angel got so furious.  And, now, if he were to find out that…"

Spike spoke, interrupting Buffy's train of thought.  "S'okay, luv.  I get the point.  Mums the word."

"Okay.  Well, we should get going."

Spike looked at her, confusion now setting in.  "We?"

"Yes.  We.  As in you and me.  I still have time off from Xander and Anya's wedding, so I'm going."

"What about Dawn?"

"She'll be okay.  Tara and Willow are there to take care of her until I get back."  Buffy gently elbowed Spike in the side, playfully teasing him.  "So, whaddya say?"

Spike ran his hand through his hair, realizing that things were bound to get interesting with Angel along for the ride.  "What else can I say except, road trip."

To be continued 


	4. Of Things To Come

Title:  Of Things To Come

Author:  Spike Speigel

E-mail:  spikespeigel26@yahoo.com

Rating:  R (Language and Violence)

Classification:  Buffy/Spike, Angel/Cordelia

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me because I don't have the imagination to even touch Mr. Whedon's.

Spoilers:  Sequel to Falling into You.  Anything's fair game from season six of BtVS and season three of AtS.

Summary:  Where Angels Tread (IV of XIII)

Status:  Finished

"Do you have to do that?"

As the night air surrounded the occupants of the car, Buffy's hair freely flowed in the wind.  Angel couldn't help but look back slightly as Spike sat with his elbow propped on the back door of the car, a cigarette dangling from his lips.  As Spike exhaled the noxious fumes, Angel began to hate the smell of the smoke wafting through the car.  Spike spoke, not really placing any weight to Angel's question.  "Do what?"

Angel growled slightly at the feigned innocence Spike was now displaying.  "That.  You have three hundred and sixty degrees of space to work with.  You don't have to keep blowing that garbage up here."

Spike grinned as he brought his index and middle finger up to his mouth, the cigarette sliding effortlessly between them.  He tilted his head back slightly as he inhaled the smoke, savoring the nicotine and God knows what else as it worked its way into his blood.  As the sensation began to flit away, Spike exhaled once again, the smoke hitting Angel square in the back of his neck.  "Sorry mate, I haven't the foggiest what you're jabbering about."

With Angel's growl growing louder, Buffy silently chuckled at the infantile display being exhibited.  She decided to intervene before something serious happened.  "Spike, maybe you can wait until we get there to light up again.  Huh?"  Buffy turned her body around in the seat, her eyes locking with the back-seat passenger.  Her lips pouted playfully, Spike groaning in defeat as his eyes stared back at hers.  He reluctantly extinguished the glowing end of the cigarette between his thumb and index finger before flicking the remnants of the cigarette into the surrounding night moving past them.

As Buffy smiled at him, Spike whispered under his breath.  "I am so bloody whipped."  Unfortunately, he forgot the part about the vampire in the driver's seat having excellent hearing.

"What'd you say?"

Spike quickly covered his faux pas while Buffy looked on, a hint of trepidation on her face.  "I said I could use a nip.  I'm starving."

Buffy played along, turning back around in her seat.  "I could use something to drink.  How about a quick stop, Angel?"

Angel eyed Buffy curiously before turning his eyes back to the nearly empty road in front of him.  He sighed softly as he considered his passengers' words.  "Yeah.  A stop will give me a chance to call home."  He focused his sight to the side of the road, the myriad of road signs moving too quickly in the dark for human eyes to see.  Fortunately, that wasn't a problem for the driver as he steered the car onto the off ramp.  "Hope you like your food fried, cuz that's all you're gonna get within ten square miles."

Buffy groaned beneath her breath, Spike grinning slightly at her irritation.  While Buffy liked to stuff her face with junk food as much as the next person, fried animal parts were never a favorite of hers.  That much he picked up on when Dawn had suggested going to the Doublemeat Palace for dinner earlier that night.  Well, that was just a guess, but a good one nonetheless based on the grimace that overcame Buffy's countenance once the words Doublemeat and Palace reached her ears.

"No worries, luv.  I'm sure they'll take out the animal chunks from the Caesar salad.  What fast food employee could refuse a face like yours, eh?"  Buffy didn't mean to chuckle so loudly, but Spike had been doing that to her lately.  Making her laugh.  Making her smile.  Making her happy.  Angel noted the lack of effort Spike needed to make her laugh.  To tell the truth, Buffy never really laughed like that around him when they were a couple.  It was more fawning and starry-eyed looks more than anything else.  But, it didn't make a difference.  Spike didn't have a chance in hell to ever claim Buffy's heart.  Right?

Before he could ponder that thought, Buffy's voice pulled him back to the present.  "Angel, you're going off the road."

"Hmm, what?"

"Car.  Road.  Car leaving road."  Angel's eyes followed Buffy's pointed finger, finally realizing that the car was now half on the road, half on the gravel.  He quickly corrected the steering before Buffy spoke again.  "You okay, Angel?  Seems like you're not entirely here."

"Sorry.  Got a lot of things on my mind."

Spike threw in his two cents, Angel almost forgetting about him in the back seat.  "I on that list?"

"You know the answer to that.  If I didn't underestimate your speed, we wouldn't even be here now.  Must be losing it.  I was always faster than you."

Buffy chimed in, a hint of anger in her voice.  "Yeah?  Well, it's a good thing you did, because you wouldn't be here either if you'd pulled off that lame brain stunt."

Spike couldn't help but grin as Angel looked at the woman in the passenger seat, confusion enveloping every fiber of his being.  Before Angel could respond to Buffy's retort, Spike interrupted the fight that would have occurred had Angel opened his big mouth.  "Exit on your right, mate."

Angel quickly glanced back at Spike from the corner of his eye before returning his gaze to the road.  As he entered the off ramp, Spike disregarded Buffy's earlier plea and pulled a cigarette from the pack lying next to him.  He'd need more than a pack if he was going to survive this excursion to L.A.

Connor sat in the desolate, abandoned drive-in, still a bit shaken about what had previously happened that day.  He had been minding his business, Justine sitting in the corner of the room reading a paper, when the voice boomed through his head.  It was so intense Connor fell from his seat and onto the floor disoriented.  His hands clutching the sides of his head, the voice intensified, becoming more recognizable even though he had only heard it once prior.

"We need to meet, young Connor."

"It hurts!  It hurts so much!"

As Connor's body began to ease in its flailing, the pain becoming more bearable, Dante continued his tirade.  "I apologize.  I forgot that your kind is not accustomed to this manner of communication.  But I need your aid.  I must see you tonight."

Connor pushed himself up from the floor, his eyes beginning to break the haze that had enveloped him along with the pain.  As he regained his sight, Justine came into view at his side, her arms on his shoulders trying to steady him.  Even though this person was essentially a stranger to him, Father had trusted her.  And so did Connor now.

He gently pushed her arms away as he stood up, Justine looking on in confusion as Connor began to speak to the emptiness of the room.  "Where?"

"Someplace private, preferably.  Pick a suitable location and I will find you."

"How?"

Dante's voice remained calm as he spoke, but Connor could have sworn he heard a hint of condescension in his words.  "It is of no concern to you.  All you need to worry about are the items I need for tonight."

"Items?"  Connor's eyes fell on Justine, finally noticing the unease in her stature.  He slightly nodded his head to indicate that everything was fine.  Justine responded with an awkward smile as Connor's conversation with Dante continued without her knowledge.

"Pay attention, young aide, for these are imperative for our upcoming campaign against those that have hurt us."

And with that, Connor listened as Dante's voice continued to reverberate in his head; Justine looking on is slight disbelief of the scene occurring in front of her.  Before the silence had a chance to settle in the room, Connor exhaled slightly before bringing his eyes to Justine's.  "Do you know where the museum is?"

Justine walked over to Connor, gently squeezing his shoulder as she spoke.  "Yeah.  It's not far."

"Good.  This shouldn't take long then."

Connor moved toward the motel room door, Justine following closely behind, grabbing her jacket and car keys as she closed the door behind her.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Fred tilted her head slightly, sipping lackadaisically at her milkshake, the straw essentially dangling from her lips.  As she chewed on the end of the straw, her words mumbled out between sips.  "Looking at you like what?"

Cordelia sighed softly as she continued poking around her garden salad with her spork.  Now there was an invention.  She wondered what would possess someone to combine a fork and spoon into the contraption now in her grasp.  Cordelia quickly pushed the thought away, responding to Fred's question.  "Like there's something growing on the back of my head."

"Well, you had an eye there once."

"Very funny, Winifred."  Cordelia took another bite from her salad as Fred examined the wrappers strewn across the counter that served as check-in for the Hyperion once upon a time.  Three wrappers.  Which meant she had finished eating all of her double cheeseburgers.  And she was still hungry.  Maybe Gunn was right.  Her stomach had to be enchanted to allow her to eat so much without gaining any weight.  Cordelia caught Fred's frown upon examining the counter.  "Want some of my yogurt?"

Fred considered her friend's words before answering.  "That's okay.  I'm not that hungry."

"What's wrong with yogurt?"

"What isn't wrong with it?  All those living cultures just swarming around in there.  It's like eating a small city."

Cordelia smiled as Fred twisted her face into a playful grimace.  "Oh, but eating half a cow's okay."  Fred's brow furrowed in confusion until Cordelia pointed at the Doublemeat Palace bag and wads of paper strewn between them.

"Well, that's different."

"Is it, now?"

"Of course it is."

"Do tell."

Fred looked at Cordelia, now grinning at her as she continued picking at her salad.  Fred sat there on the stool, trying to refute Cordelia's stance.  Unfortunately, nothing good came to mind.  "Give me a spoon."

Cordelia softly chuckled as she slid the yogurt carton toward Fred, the spoon held securely on top of the lid.  She laid the spork on the side of the plastic carton holding the contents of her salad, her eyes intently focused on Fred as she peeled off the lid of the yogurt cup.  Fred tentatively dipped the spoon into the white substance with fruit hidden on the bottom like some type of sunken treasure.  As Fred brought the spoon to her lips, Cordelia smiled as the look on Fred's face changed from one of worry to one of joy.  "Good, isn't it?"

Fred nodded her head slightly as she scooped up another helping of yogurt.  "Doesn't mean I don't feel bad about those little fellas swimming around in there."

"I'm sure they didn't feel a thing."

Fred smiled slightly before both resumed their respective meals.  As the silence enveloped the room once again, Fred interrupted it, slightly startling Cordelia.  "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

Fred propped her elbows on the counter, her chin now cupped in her hands as she spoke.  "I can see it in your eyes.  Even though you seem okay, you look so sad in there."

Cordelia's response came quickly, quietly.  "You're wrong."

"Am I?  When was the last time you actually laughed?  You used to laugh a lot before…before…"

Cordelia nodded, understanding Fred's statement.  Things had been very different ever since Wesley left and Connor had almost killed Angel.  It still bothered her to no end about what she had given up.  She had given it all up for him.  And maybe damned herself in the process.  But there was no other choice.  She couldn't have left Angel to die out there in the ocean.  No matter what Skip had shown her.  Friends didn't abandon each other in times of need.

But that was a lie.  She was on her way to the bluff to tell Angel how she felt about him.  About how he made her a better person.  And for that she could never repay him.  But now, with Connor still lurking about and Wesley's whereabouts unknown, it didn't seem like the right time to tell him how she felt.  It wouldn't be fair to him.  And there was also the slight fear that he didn't feel the same way she did.  Because there was still that one person that held claim to his heart.  Buffy.

"Cordelia?"

"Hmm?"

"You kinda zoned out there."

"Oh, sorry.  What were you saying?"

Fred frowned slightly as she spoke.  "Look, I know there's something wrong.  Maybe if you talk about it, you'll feel better.  I know I do whenever I talk to Charles."

"You really don't want to know what's bothering me."

"Sure I do.  What kind of friend would I be if I didn't?"

Cordelia looked over at Fred, wondering whether Fred was being sincere or not.  However, her doubt was quickly dispelled upon seeing a subtle smile on the other woman's face.  "Fine, but you're gonna be sorry once I get this off my chest."

"Then I look forward to being sorry."

Cordelia chuckled slightly as she spoke.  "You're a unique one, Winifred."

"I know.  Now spill."

Cordelia smiled slightly as she began to speak.  "It's just…things have been awkward lately between Angel and me.  First with everything that's happened over the past few months and now with Angel going to Sunnydale."  Fred looked on intently, absorbing every word being spoken.  "I think I'm afraid that…"

Unfortunately, Cordelia never got a chance to finish her sentence.  Mainly because of the doors of the Hyperion swinging open, the group walking in throwing Cordelia off guard.

"Hey, Cordy.  I'm back."

Fred answered Angel, Cordelia's eyes still fixated on the two individuals standing behind Angel.  "And you've brought guests.  Good thing we live in a hotel.  Plenty of room for all."  Fred slid off the stool, walking over to the group now standing at the base of the stairs.  "Hi, I'm Fred.  And you are?"

"I'm Buffy.  And this is Spike."

Spike grinned slightly at Fred, Buffy gently nudging him in the ribs with her elbow.  Spike quickly gave Buffy a 'what was that for' look before speaking.  "Hullo, luv.  Give us a shake."

Fred cautiously extended her hand, remembering that this was the same person that was supposedly going to cause the end of the world.  However, her worry dissipated as Spike gently shook her hand, a slight smirk of innocence on his face.  While Fred was indisposed with the new arrivals, Angel moved toward Cordelia.  "Hey.  How were things while I was gone?"

Cordelia smiled awkwardly, her eyes darting between Angel and the group behind him.  "Quiet.  I'm starting to think you're the reason things go to hell around here."

Angel smiled slightly, looking around at the lobby.  "Where're Gunn and Lorne?"

"Boys' night out."

Angel quickly glanced at the remnants of dinner lying on the counter before speaking.  "And this is your girls' night out?"

"Something like that."

Before Angel could reply, the group walked over to the counter, Buffy's voice interrupting their conversation.  "Hi, Cordelia."

Cordelia moved from behind the table counter, walking over to Buffy.  As Cordelia stood in front of her, the silence became prevalent once again.  Before Buffy could break the silence, Cordelia moved toward Buffy, her arms embracing Buffy.  "It's good to see you.  It's been so long."

Buffy reciprocated the hug, speaking softly.  "I know what you mean.  It's good to see you too."

As the women remained in their embrace, Spike looked over to Angel, a slight hint of sarcasm in his voice.  "Why don't you ever hug me like that?"

Angel growled softly as he spoke.  "Shut up, Spike."

Fred giggled as she looked up at Spike.  "You're really funny, you know that?"

"Must be the hair.  A regular Carrot Top, yeah?"

"Nah, you're better than him."

Spike chuckled as he spoke.  "You're okay, luv."

Fred smiled at Spike before speaking out again.  "So, what are you guys doing here anyway?"

Buffy and Cordelia released from their embrace, Buffy looking behind her as she answered the question.  "We're here to clear up some misconceptions."

Spike spoke, his voice now intently serious.  "So, what's say we wrap this up as soon as possible so we can all go on our merry ways."

Angel looked over at Spike, a tint of hatred in his voice.  "Fine with me.  I'm sure we can get inside the hospital without much effort."

Buffy quickly turned around, about to curtail the inevitable squabble that was about to begin.  However, Cordelia's voice interrupted her.  "I think you guys should get over there right now."

Angel turned his gaze to Cordelia, his brow furrowed with concern.  "What's wrong?"

"Unless my visions have gone haywire, Mr. Tweedy's going to die tonight."

Gunn didn't really like the company around them.  He couldn't really help it.  It was the way he was brought up.  Living in Los Angeles, seeing what he'd seen over the years, it was only natural to think the worst of them.  It wasn't like they were people, anyway.  But that wasn't true.  Ever since he'd been working at Angel Investigations, he'd seen things in a different light.  Albeit slowly, but he was beginning to accept the fact that there were good demons out there as well.  That didn't mean he had to like them all though.

"Hey, what's wrong Charles?  You're barely touching your daiquiri."

"Sorry, Lorne.  But I'm not much of a drinker."  Gunn looked down at the fruity concoction, a little umbrella perched precariously on the side of the lip, pointing up at him with utter abandon for its well-being.  "And after tonight, I don't think I'll be drinking any time soon."

"Good for you, Charles."  Lorne brought the margarita up to his lips, taking a healthy sip, before speaking again.  "It's a nasty habit.  But, it feels good as hell going down, though."

Gunn chuckled slightly, his eyes moving back to the front of the bar.  On the stage was a group called the Dixie Styx.  According to Lorne, the members were hellspawn sent to earth as messengers between the two realms.  However, it seemed that the earth culture had proven too powerful for them to resist, especially those three cute country crooners.  So, they created a cover band and modified the name to reflect their affiliation.  At least, that's the way Lorne told it.  "They're not half bad."

"You're right.  They're all bad."

Gunn looked at Lorne, a hint of confusion on his face.  "You don't like them?  Then why'd you bring us here, then?"  Lorne pointed over to the waitress in the corner, her tail lifting the back of her skirt ever so slightly to border on indecent.  Gunn chuckled at the sudden realization.  "You should talk to her.  I'm sure you two'd hit it off."

Lorne took another sip from his glass, almost as an afterthought, before speaking.  "You think?  I know that I look suave and sophisticated on the surface, but underneath, I'm just a lowly phleeb."

"Phleeb?"

"Nerd.  Dork.  Ignoramus.  Take your pick."

"Ahh."  Gunn sighed slightly, realizing that the lack of confidence in his friend was somewhat unnecessary.  After all, he wasn't a phleeb.  Maybe a bit of an eccentric, but that was pretty much expected in the group.  "Look, man.  Take a chance.  Worse that can happen is she says no."

"Or disembowels me right here."

"Okay, but you heal quick."  Lorne nodded agreement, indicating that Gunn had him there.  "On the upside, you could end up with a pleasant morning instead of just a hangover."

Lorne mulled over his friend's pros and cons before sliding his chair away from the table, getting up casually.  "Look after my drink.  I'm off to humiliate myself."

Gunn smiled, a hint of assurance in his voice.  "That's the spirit.  Go get 'em, you dashing specimen of manliness."  Lorne chuckled slightly before disappearing into the sea of inebriated people.  Gunn followed him as much as he could from his seat, but the crowd coupled with the smoke got the better of him.  So, he turned his attention back to the band, the pink concoction still untouched.  As the music began to flood his senses, his body relaxing into the chair, a sudden vibration against his chest stirred him from his state of euphoria.  Gunn instinctively reached into his inside breast pocket, fishing out his cell.  "Gunn."

"How close are you to Mr. Tweedy?"

"Angel?"

"Yeah.  No time to explain.  How close."

Gunn recognized the air of concern in Angel's voice, so decided to keep the conversation as concise as possible.  "We're about a block away."

"Good.  I want you and Lorne to look after place until we get there."

"Sure.  What's going on, Angel?"

Angel took a worried breath that was unnecessary before continuing.  "Cordy thinks someone's going to kill him tonight."

"Say no more, man.  We're on it."

"Good.  We'll meet you there."

With that, Gunn clicked off the signal, dropping a handful of cash on the table before wading through the crowd.  As he pushed his way though the amalgam of human and demon, Lorne came into view.  A very happy Lorne, by the looks of it.  Too bad he was about to ruin Lorne's moment of triumph.

Gunn brought his hand down on Lorne's shoulder, startling him.  "We gotta go.  Work calls."

"But…"

"No time, Lorne.  Someone's gonna die if we don't leave now."

Lorne nodded, the weight of Gunn's words sinking in.  He turned back to the waitress, readying his apology.  "I'm so sorry, Denise, but I have to…"

"I heard, sweetie.  Go."  Lorne flashed her a quick smile before turning back to Gunn.  However, the hand on his forearm brought him back to the woman standing behind him.  "Here.  Take this."  Lorne extended his hand, Denise placing a slip of paper into his palm.  Lorne quickly unraveled it, his eyes falling upon a series of digits.  That's when the smile turned into a full-blown grin.  "Call me.  I mean it."

"You got it."

Gunn smiled at the scene, Lorne turning back to his friend, both walking toward the exit now.  "Told you, man."

Lorne chuckled at his friend, an air of confidence surrounding him.  "Who knew I was such a ladies' man."

Angel looked over the buttons on the cell phone, looking for the green one that switched off the signal.  It had been a little over three years since he first got the phone, and he still didn't know where the end button was.  Technology was way overrated, as far as he was concerned.  Once the 'end' text came on the LCD screen, Angel pocketed the cell phone, turning his attention back to the group now congregating at the center of the lobby.  "Gunn and Lorne are on their way to the hospital.  They'll keep an eye out until we can get there."

Buffy, somewhat worried by what had just occurred, voiced her concern.  "Cordelia, I don't mean to be rude, but just how accurate are these visions of yours."

Cordelia politely smiled, realizing that even for a Slayer, the act of seeing into the future could be a bit jarring.  "They're very accurate."

"If it wasn't for Cordy, we wouldn't have saved as many people as we have in the past few years."  Angel looked over to Cordelia, throwing her a slight smile.  Cordelia returned it in kind; appreciating the support he was showing her in front of Buffy.

Buffy nodded approval, accepting the truth in Angel's words.  "That's good enough for me.  Let's go."

As the group moved toward the lobby doors, the phone rang, Fred stopping in her tracks.  "You guys go ahead, I'll stay and get that."

Angel nodded, speaking as he continued up the stairs.  "Call Gunn.  I'd feel better if he was here with you."

"You and me, both."  Fred picked up the receiver, holding it to her shoulder.  "Be careful."

Spike looked over his shoulder, flashing a slight grin as he spoke.  "Always do, pet.  Always do."

With that, the group made their way out of the hotel, Fred bringing the receiver up to her ear.  "Angel Investigations."

Gunn pulled the pickup to the curb, the mental institution in plain view from the cab.  Both occupants stepped out onto the street, Lorne voicing his concern.  "I don't know, Charles.  Something doesn't feel right."

"What?  You mean other than the fact that we're breaking into a mental institution at two in the morning?"

"Yeah.  Other than that."

Gunn exhaled softly, worry starting to permeate his being as well.  Lorne was right.  Even though it was almost sunup, things definitely weren't right.  The main giveaway was the fact that the streets were deadly silent.  That just wasn't common for the city, let alone L.A.  However, now wasn't the time for worrisome thoughts.  They had a job to do.  "You're just imagining things, Lorne.  Probably one too many drinks."

Lorne timidly chuckled, his eyes gazing across the landscape between them and the hospital.  "Yeah, you're probably right.  Definitely giving up drinking.  Definitely."

Gunn smiled at his friend, both making their way to the steps of the institution.  As they neared the building, a hooded figure emerged from the shadows, walking on the sidewalk in front of the hospital.  Both men gave each other an inquiring look, uncertain of what to make of the individual that supposedly appeared from nowhere.  However, the man on the sidewalk seemed not to pay them any mind, and just continued on his way past the steps.  Gunn voiced his thoughts, speaking to no one in particular.  "Weird place for a stroll."

"Tell me about it."

Gunn turned to Lorne, noting the look of puzzlement on his face.  "Then again, us being here is pretty weird too."

"That's true."  As both men reached the base of the stairs, Lorne looked up toward the door, a sigh of trepidation escaping his lips.  "Let's just get this over with so we can go home."

"Sounds like a plan."  As the two men began to make their way up the stairs, the figure in the distance began to hum.  The tune was eerily familiar.  Lorne stopped his ascent, the notes to Beethoven's Ode to Joy filling his ears.  Gunn turned back, looking at his companion.  "What's wrong, Lorne?"

As the notes became more prevalent, the humming growing in intensity, Lorne's countenance changed from one of worry to one of intense fear.  With his eyes locked on the hooded figure continuing down the sidewalk, Lorne spoke quickly, fear permeating his every word.  "Run."  Gunn looked on in confusion as Lorne's gaze remained on the hooded figure, enthralled by the melody.  Gunn followed suit, his gaze now joining Lorne's.  Both men stood eerily still as the hooded figure slowly turned around, the humming still prevalent as he brought the cloak about his shoulders.  His silver hair glittered in the moonlight, a discomfiting smile gracing his face.  The humming crescendoed until the individual reached the end of the verse, the smile never leaving his face.  Lorne quickly grabbed Gunn by the arm, forcefully pulling him down the steps.  "Run!"

Gunn didn't question Lorne, instead running down the steps and back toward the pickup.  He'd learned by now that Lorne was never wrong about people's intentions once they started singing.  Gunn quickly looked back over his shoulder, seeing from the corner of his eye that the silver haired individual remained standing on the sidewalk, his uneasy smile still on his face.  The figure made no effort to pursue them.  Maybe Lorne was wrong after all.

However, this thought was quickly dispelled as the figure quickly emerged, blocking their way to the pickup.  Both men looked up at the figure, breathing hard as the man spoke.  "I'm sorry.  But I can't allow you to leave."

Gunn spoke, his voice hitched slightly by his heavy breathing.  "How'd you do that?"

The figure continuing smiling, no hint of aggression on his countenance, as he spoke.  "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Gunn's mind continued whirling, still unable to comprehend the fact that a man that was a good twenty feet away had somehow outpaced them and ended up in front of them.  Unable to process the information, Gunn asked the next logical question.  "What do you want?"

The stranger spoke, his smile never wavering.  "What all of us wants.  Peace of mind.  That's all."

Lorne interrupted the stranger's speech, anger permeating his voice.  "And you'll get that by killing Mr. Tweedy?"

The figure chuckled slightly upon hearing Lorne's words.  "Ahh.  I see that your penchant for mind reading is very much working.  A pity.  Now I have to kill you as well.  Wouldn't bode well for you to go shouting to the nearest person that the sky's falling."  Gunn looked on in confusion at the individual's words.  However, the confusion was quickly dissipated as the stranger's hand flew from his side, plunging into Lorne's chest.  Lorne looked up in disbelief, the figure still smiling.  "You know.  If it weren't for Mr. Beethoven, I'd say that humanity had no redeeming values at all.  Wouldn't you agree?"

Unfortunately, Lorne didn't respond.  Instead, the weight of his body pulled him off of the stranger's arm, Lorne's body collapsing onto the street.  Gunn quickly swung his clenched fist at Lorne's assailant.  "You son of a bitch!"

Gunn's fist never reached its target.  Instead, his fist fell square against the stranger's palm, which quickly closed over the fist like a vice.  Gunn screamed out in pain, the audible sound of bone cracking echoing through the silent street.  "You'd be surprised how close you are to the truth, young man.  But, I have other places to be tonight.  So, you'll forgive me if I don't chat up a storm and just get on with ending your life."

Gunn continued to struggle against the stranger's grip to no avail.  Finally, his body stopped fighting, Gunn looking death in the eye.  "Who the hell are you?"

"I guess it won't hurt since you're about to die."  The figure clenched Gunn by his shirt, lifting him up effortlessly.  "My name is Dante.  I hope you can die with a clear conscience now."  Before Gunn could reply, Dante pulled Gunn over his shoulder and propelled him through the air as though he was a football.  Gunn's gaze never left the stranger as he lifted up into the air, the figure growing smaller, that sardonic smile still on his face.  That was the last thing Gunn saw before his body embossed itself into the brick wall of the building behind him, Gunn's unconscious body falling back to the ground with a sickening, dull thud.  "That was slightly enjoyable."

Dante turned his gaze back toward the mental institution, Ode to Joy once again floating through the street as he walked over Lorne's huddled body and up the steps of the building.

Fred quickly scribbled down the address of the caller, reassuring the woman on the other end that someone would be over in the morning to examine her house.  It was a simple haunting.  Nothing that couldn't wait till morning.  After all, most of the hauntings they'd seen had been nothing more than an ex-boyfriend or girlfriend just playing a prank on their victims just out of spite.  Childish, really.

She quickly placed the receiver into the cradle and brought it up to her ear once again, pressing the numbers that corresponded to Gunn's cell phone.  Upon pressing the last number, the tone changed from open to ringing.  Unfortunately, the tone never stopped ringing, voice mail ultimately answering, causing Fred to think the worst.  Gunn always carried his cell and rarely let the voice mail pick up.  Something was wrong.  There was no other explanation.

Fred closed the signal, allowing the open tone to emanate through the earpiece before dialing once again.  This time, the ringing ceased, a voice coming through from the other side.  "Angel."

"Angel, Charles isn't answering his phone."

"Are you sure, Fred?"

Fred sighed in frustration, the worry beginning to grow inside her.  "Of course I'm sure, Angel.  He's not picking up.  Something's wrong."

"Keep trying.  We're almost at the hospital."  

Fred was about to speak but Cordelia's voice came through the phone, a hint of panic in her voice.  "Isn't that Gunn's truck?"

Angel's voice chimed in, voicing the affirmative.  "Yeah.  But where are…oh, God…"  Fred listened intently, the silence beginning to tear her up.  Finally, the silence broke, Angel's voice once again filling the void.  "Fred, call 911.  Now."

"What's wrong, Angel?!?"

She could hear Angel exhale deeply on the other end.  "It's…it's bad, Fred.  Call them.  We're at…"

"I know where you are.  I'm on it."  Fred quickly hung up the phone once again, dialing the numbers as quickly as her fingers would allow.

"Hello.  911.  What is your emergency?"

Angel parked the car behind the pickup, the occupants pouring out into the street.  Angel ran over to Lorne, wondering where Gunn could have gone off?  Cordelia and Buffy followed suit, Spike's gaze combing the area for anything suspicious.  As Angel turned Lorne over onto his back, Cordelia gasped at the sight, Buffy slowly closing her eyes in sorrow.  Not even an hour had gone by and someone had died.  Someone close to Angel.

"Where's…where's Charles?"

Buffy's eyes flew open, somewhat in awe at the green skinned individual who was moving slightly, his speech slurred.  "How…?"

Cordelia filled in the blank.  "He's a quick healer."  Cordelia looked down at Lorne, a gentle smile on her face as she spoke.  "Aren't you, Lorne?"

"You know it."  Lorne winced as he tried to move his body, the gaping hole in his chest preventing him otherwise.  "God, this hurts."

Angel gently placed his hand on Lorne's chest, trying to steady his body spasm.  "Who did this, Lorne?"

"Don't…don't know.  But he's inside.  He's gonna…"  Before he could finish his statement, coughing wracked Lorne's body, the pain unbearable for him to withstand.  

Angel nodded understanding, pulling his coat off and wadding it up into a makeshift pillow.  He gently lifted up Lorne's head, placing the coat underneath him, hoping that it somehow alleviated the pain.  "It's okay, Lorne.  We'll fix you up."

"Yeah.  Don't know why this hurts so much.  I've…I've been cut into pieces without any pain."

Angel nodded, Cordelia near the point of tears.  Suddenly, Spike's voice got their attention.  "Oi!  Got a man down, here."

Angel turned back to Cordelia, Buffy already making her way over to Spike.  "Stay with him."  Cordelia nodded as she kneeled down next to Lorne, coughing still emanating from his lips.  Cordelia gently squeezed his hand, not know what else to do.

As Buffy made her way around the pickup, she could see Spike kneeling next to the person that was undoubtedly Charles Gunn.  From the look of it, he'd been broken into a million pieces, blood seeping from the back of his head.  Buffy knelt next to Spike, worry tinting her voice.  "What could have done this?"

Spike looked upward, Buffy confused at the motion.  "Whatever it was, damn near threw him through the sodding wall."  Buffy followed Spike's gaze, her eyes falling upon the impression left by Gunn's body.

"Oh, my God."

Spike sighed under his breath, pressing his jacket against Gunn's cut, trying to retard the flow of blood rushing out of his body.  "Doubt if God had anything to do with this, luv.  Even he's not that bitter."

Buffy nodded, although not entirely agreeing with Spike's words.  After all, what God would have allowed her friends to bring her back to life when she was rightfully done?  God had a weird sense of humor.  That much was positive.  Before Buffy could let her mind wander, Angel's voice interrupted her thoughts.  "Gunn."

"He's alive, mate.  But I don't know for how much longer."

Angel gave Spike a puzzled look, not comprehending the fact that Spike was showing concern for someone other than himself.  However, as he began to speak, the shrill sound of sirens began to come over the horizon.  "We've got to get inside.  The paramedics will take care of Gunn."

Buffy spoke, her question valid.  "What about your green friend?  Do paramedics take care of demons here as well?"

Angel nodded.  She had a point.  "I'll move him in the back seat.  You two get inside.  I'll be right behind you."

Spike voiced his concern for the current plan.  "Wait.  We have no idea who we're looking for."

"Cordy'll show you.  Now go."

Spike nodded, both he and Buffy moving toward Cordelia.  Angel looked on as Cordelia nodded before reluctantly leaving Lorne's side.  She turned to Angel, Angel nodding at her.  With that, the three individuals made their way up the steps, Angel quickly moving toward Lorne, the sirens growing louder in the distance.

Jack Tweedy lay in his bed, sleep escaping him once again.  How could he sleep?  Not with the information rolling around in his head.  After all, how could one possibly sleep when they had foreseen their own death?  Sleep wasn't important.  Not when it would become eternal in a few minutes.

Instead, Jack Tweedy just remained motionless; his eyes transfixed on the ceiling, counting the number of popcorn pieces that fell into his field of vision.  It was the only thing he could do since the orderlies had taken it upon themselves to secure Jack to his bed with straps that not even Houdini could have broken.

A sudden noise from the hallway got Jack's attention.  Jack slowly turned his head to the clock on the nightstand.  The red digits flashed 2:36 AM at him.  Almost time.  Jack took a deep breath, readying himself for what was about to come.  Even though he would be glad to finally stop seeing the images that irrevocably flooded his every thought, there was still a part of him that didn't want to die.  After all, what person rightfully accepted death?

Jack took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  Even though his eyes were now closed, he could see through his eyelids that light had begun to pour into the room.  A blinding, blue light that made him feel calm yet nervous all at once.  Jack finally exhaled, opening his eyes.  It took a while before his eyes finally focused on the figure now standing over him, the light creating a harsh glare.

"Do you know who I am?"  Jack nodded solemnly, making no effort to speak.  "You know why I'm here.  Correct?"

"Yes."

"You know why I have to do what comes next, don't you?"

Jack spoke, a hint of arrogance in his voice.  "Because I know too much.  Because I know your secret."

Dante sighed, his hand now on Jack Tweedy's forehead.  Jack could feel the warmth emanating from the individual, feeling somewhat comforted at his touch.  "I'm sorry she did this to you.  She was careless."  Dante gently caressed Jack's cheek with his other hand, his voice calm yet sincere.  "I promise, it won't hurt."

Jack looked up; wanting to make sure he saw the look in the man's face before the end came.  "Since we're both being honest, you should know that you're not going to succeed.  I've seen it."

Dante smiled, no hint of aggression in his voice as he spoke.  "You've seen but pieces.  But, they are vital pieces nonetheless.  In the end, mankind will get what they rightfully deserve."  With that, Dante removed his hand from Jack's cheek, his other hand now firmly cupped against Jack's forehead.  "Close your eyes."

"No.  I want to see the end."

"Very well.  As you wish."  With that, Jack looked deeply into Dante's eyes, the bright light enveloping the room.

Cordelia stayed in front of Buffy and Spike, her eyes falling on the wall markers to make sure she was moving in the right direction.  She shouldn't have doubted herself because at that moment, a bright glow filled the hallway, forcing all three to shield their eyes from the harsh light.  Once the light subsided, the group looked down the hall, Spike voicing the obvious.  "Guess we're on the right track."

Buffy nodded, moving ahead of Cordelia.  "Let's just hope we're not too late."

Spike nodded, tapping Cordelia on the shoulder to shake her out of her trance.  "Let's go, pet."

"Go on.  I'll be right behind you."

Spike looked at her, a hint of concern on his face.  "You sure?"

Cordelia gently smiled as she spoke.  "Yeah.  Go.  I'll wait for Angel."  Spike nodded understanding before following after Buffy.  As soon as Spike vanished around the corner, Cordelia slumped against the wall, her legs barely able to hold her up.  Whatever that light was, it had sapped most of the strength from her body.  The last thought that went through Cordelia's mind was why were Buffy and Spike unaffected by the light.  Unfortunately, she couldn't come up with a reason because she slipped from consciousness, her body slumping against the side of the wall.

"Where's Cordelia?"

Spike ran up next to Buffy's side, his gaze never leaving the hallway.  "Said she was going to wait for Angel."

Buffy nodded, both making their way toward the ominous glow that was now quickly receding down the hallway.  As they continued on, they eventually came across a door, light pouring from the outer edges of the doorframe.  Buffy looked at Spike, his body tensed.  "Ready?"

"Like you have to ask."  With that, Spike reared his leg back and lunged forward, the impact of his foot on the door sending it flying across the room.

Without hesitation, Buffy rushed into the room, Spike following close behind.  As they settled into the room, the only thing they saw was a man lying in his bed, no evidence of anyone else ever being in the room.  Buffy walked over to the bed cautiously, noticing that the person lay motionless.  She placed her index and middle finger against the man's carotid artery, her fear becoming reality.  "We're too late."

Spike walked up to Buffy, his arms wrapping about her shoulders.  Buffy rested her head against his chest, tears threatening to escape.  "I know it hurts, pet."

Buffy solemnly nodded before moving out of Spike's embrace.  "I'll go get Cordelia.  You look after him."

Spike gently smiled at Buffy, Buffy returning it before turning toward the now devastated door.  However, before Buffy could walk out into the hallway, Spike's gasp got her attention.  Buffy quickly turned around to see Mr. Tweedy's hand now gripping Spike's forearm followed by a bright burst of light.  Buffy found herself once again shielding her eyes, this time the event accompanied by the screams of both men as the light flooded the room.

Angel moved down the hallway, still feeling uneasy at the sight of strewn bodies in the reception area of the hospital.  While they weren't dead, they were definitely unconscious.  That much was evident by the shallow breathing the receptionist and two orderlies displayed.  The thing that bothered Angel was that there was no evidence of physical harm on the bodies.  Just three unconscious bodies.  What could do something like that?

Unfortunately, when Angel rounded the corner of the corridor, his eyes falling on an unconscious Cordelia, his thoughts about the other bodies fell to the wayside.  Angel quickly rushed over to Cordelia's side, gathering her up in his arms.  "Cordy?  Cordy?"

He gently patted her cheek, trying to get her to open her eyes.  The sudden movement must have affected Cordelia, because her eyes slowly opened, Angel filling her vision.  "What…what happened?"

"That's what I'd like to know."  Angel gently brushed an errant strand of hair from Cordelia's forehead, continuing.  "Where're Buffy and Spike?"

"They went ahead.  Didn't want to slow them down."

Angel gently smiled at Cordelia, his gaze shifting between her and the hallway.  "I'm going to see what they're up to.  You'll be okay by yourself?"  Cordelia gingerly tilted her head, unable to fully nod affirmative.  Angel chuckled softly as he spoke.  "I'm going to lay you down, okay?"  

Another half completed head tilt was all the indication Angel received.  However, as he started to lay Cordelia onto the floor, her hand flew up to his chest, gripping his shirt tightly.  Her body began to spasm as she began to scream.  As Angel tried to comfort the woman in his arms, he could have sworn that he heard Spike bellow out at the same time, his screams matching those of Cordelia's.  However, Spike was the least of his worries.  The woman in his arms was.

Unsure of what to do, Angel pulled her closer to him, hugging her against his chest to lessen her spasms.  The last thing he expected was for her to speak.  But that she did.  And the words bothered him to no end as Cordelia continued to spasm in his arms.  "World on fire!  World on fire!  World on fire!"  Over and over, the phrase emanated from Cordelia's lips.  All Angel could do was hold on as tight as he could and not let go.

"Spike!"

Buffy tried to look into the light, but her reflexes prevented her from doing otherwise.  The light was too intense for human eyes to look into.  So, she just stood there, calling out to Spike, waiting to hear anything from him other than his screams of pain.

As Buffy tried to inch her way closer to Spike's location, she tripped and fell over what was undoubtedly a footstool.  Either that or an empty bedpan.  At least she hoped it was an empty bedpan.  Because she really didn't want to imagine what could possibly be on her right about now.  While Buffy began to push herself off the floor, she realized that the screams were beginning to subside as well as the intensity of the light.  She looked up, her eyes shifting from a squint to a gaze as an outline of Spike became visible.

Suddenly, the light vanished, leaving Spike next to Mr. Tweedy, both men obviously affected by the ordeal.  Buffy quickly leapt to her feet, moving over to Spike's side to assess if any damage had befallen him.  "Spike?"

He remained silent, his gaze still fixed on Mr. Tweedy, the bed-ridden individual's breaths coming faster now.  "Now you know what I know."  With that, Jack Tweedy's fingers fell from Spike's forearm, his arm falling off the side of the bed.  Spike slowly reached for the man's arm, carefully placing it over his chest.  Then, he slowly moved his hand over Jack Tweedy's eyes, closing them forever.

"Spike?"  He slowly turned to Buffy, trying to speak but finding himself unable to.  Instead, he moved to the side of the bed and slouched down in the nearby chair.  Buffy's trepidation began to get the better of her, her voice becoming more intense.  "Honey, what is it?"

Spike kept his eyes on the ground as he spoke, his hands cupping his knees.  "Give us a minute, luv.  Need to recuperate some."

Buffy nodded slightly, moving over to Spike's side, her hand gently cupping his shoulder.  "Take all the time you need."

Spike made no motion.  Instead, he quietly sat in the chair, his gaze now on Jack Tweedy.  Buffy could only wonder what was going through Spike's mind right now.  But, the way he was looking at the now deceased individual made Buffy very uncomfortable.  It was almost as if Spike was envious of the fact that Mr. Tweedy was the one that died and not himself.  And what did the man's last words mean?  What did Spike know now?

Before Buffy could contemplate these questions, Spike rose from the chair, looking down at Buffy.  "We should go before the authorities get here."

"Okay."  Buffy had questions but she knew better than to ask them now.  Something intense had just occurred to Spike.  Something he needed time to come to terms with.  That much was certain from the tone of his voice.  Gone was the jubilance and light-heartedness.  All that remained was a tone of deadly seriousness.  As the two moved out of the room, Spike quickly looked back at the body of Mr. Jack Tweedy, his voice wavering as he spoke.  "I hope you're wrong, mate.  God, please be wrong."  With that, he walked past Buffy.  All she could do at the moment was wonder about what Spike had meant by his words.

Cordelia awoke, her eyes flying open as her body lunged forward.  "Angel!"

A hand gently fell on her back, Cordelia's gaze falling onto Angel, sitting next to her.  "It's okay.  Everything's okay."

Cordelia looked around, her current surroundings puzzling her.  "When did we get back…?"

"'Bout an hour ago.  You lost consciousness again when you starting screaming."

"Screaming?"

Angel looked over Cordelia's face, realizing that she had no idea what he was talking about.  "How much do you remember, Cordy?"

Cordelia placed her hand on her forehead, clutching it as though she was trying to force the memories to the surface but couldn't.  "I remember a bright light and then nothing.  Sorry."

"It's okay.  Just rest.  We'll figure this all out later."  As the two friends allowed the silence to fill the room, Angel gently wrapped his hand about Cordelia's.  She squeezed back, thankful that he was by her side.  At that moment, the door to the office swung open, Buffy standing in the doorframe.

"Hope you like soup.  It's all I could find."

Cordelia quickly released Angel's hand, awkwardly smiling as she spoke.  "Tell me about it.  One of the perks of working for a vampire.  A lifetime diet regimen."

Buffy smirked at the witticism, Angel stumbling for a defense.  "I don't eat.  So sue me."

"Spike eats."

Angel glared at Buffy, almost flabbergasted that she was comparing Spike to him.  "Well, Spike does a lot of things I don't.  Like not giving a damn."

Cordelia interrupted the inevitable argument that was about to erupt, throwing her two cents into the fray.  "Well, he seemed to care enough to stop Gunn's bleeding and to check if I was okay back in the hospital."

"Oh, God.  Not you too.  What is it with Spike and women?"

Cordelia answered quickly, wanting to gauge Angel's reaction.  "Well, he does have those deep blue eyes that do things to you whenever you look into them."  Buffy didn't mean to laugh, but Cordelia was right.  Buffy couldn't not remember a time when she hadn't lost herself in those deep blue pools.  Angel sighed in frustration, Cordelia deciding to leave him alone for a moment to get back to the present.  "Is Gunn okay?"

Buffy answered.  "We're not sure yet.  Fred left a note saying she was going to the hospital.  Said she'd call once she found out more information."

"Oh.  Okay.  And Lorne?"

Angel fielded this question.  "He's upstairs.  He's sleeping but the wound's regenerating.  That's a good sign, at least."  Cordelia nodded, images of Lorne in pain flooding into her mind once again.  She quickly closed her eyes, wishing for the images to disappear.  "What's wrong?"

"Nothing.  Just a headache."

Buffy placed the soup on the desk as she spoke.  "Do you want some aspirin?"

"It's okay.  I'm used to them."  Buffy accepted Cordelia's request and left it alone.  As Cordelia's eyes gazed the room, she realized that there was still one person unaccounted for.  "Where's Spike?"

The voice came from the lobby.  "Out here, pet."  Cordelia looked out into the lobby, Spike's figure moving into the frame of the door as he walked toward the office.  "Just thought you could use some space, is all."

Cordelia nodded, Spike now leaning against the doorframe.  Angel interrupted the scene, uneasy with the look that Cordelia was giving Spike.  "So, what exactly do you remember, Cordelia?"

Cordelia furrowed her brow, her gaze not falling on anything in particular.  After a moment of silence, she spoke.  "I'm not sure.  Something about fire.  I think there was fire."

Angel reaffirmed her memory.  "That's right.  You kept on shouting…"

Before Angel could complete his sentence, Spike broke in.  "…the world's on fire."

Buffy quickly turned her gaze to Spike, Angel and Cordelia following.  Spike just stood there in the doorframe, a look of comprehension and acceptance now on his face.  Cordelia spoke, a hint of confusion in her voice.  "How'd you know that?"

Angel seconded Cordelia's concern.  "Yeah.  You weren't even with us when Cordy's seizure started."

Spike looked at Buffy, seeing that she was now worried about what was now transpiring in the office.  "I can see it in my head.  It was what that Tweedy chap had in his head."  The three onlookers remained silent as Spike continued his narrative.  "Somehow, with his dying breath, he gave me his thoughts.  Of what's to come."

Buffy spoke, concern lacing her every word.  "And what's that?"

Spike's gaze never left Buffy's as he answered her question, his voice never wavering.  "The end of the world."

Connor didn't know Dante had arrived until the man spoke.  "Hello, young ward."

Connor quickly pounced from his seat, quickly moving into a defensive stance.  "How'd you sneak up on me?  I didn't even hear you."

"Answers will come all in good time, Connor.  For now, we need to focus on the present."  Connor moved the bag from his side, holding it close to his body as Dante looked on.  "Are those the items?"

Connor nodded, questioning Dante once again.  "Where have you been?  I've been waiting here for over two hours."

"I apologize.  I had some loose ends that needed to be taken care of.  I hope you can forgive my tardiness."

The young half-breed remained silent, extending the bag out to his partner.  "What do you need these things for, anyway?  They're not even remotely related."

Connor would have sworn that Dante had laughed, but in all the time he had known the silver haired stranger, laughter was not his forte.  But smiling.  That was a different story.  He always had that relaxed, undermining smile on his face, as though he knew something that no one else knew.  And because of that, he was better than everyone else.  But, that was just Connor's interpretation.  "These items are vital."  Dante leisurely grabbed the bag from Connor's hand, pouring the contents onto the floor.

At Dante's feet lay odd trinkets that would be more at home on a young girl's dresser, not a museum.  But looks could be deceiving.  Holtz had told Connor of these relics, and the power inherent in each of them.  But as far as he knew, they didn't work in conjunction.  "The Eye of Odin, the Ring of Jihrah, and the Anklet of Semandoah.  All as you requested."

"Indeed.  Job well done, young Connor."  Before Connor could comprehend what was happening, Dante's foot came crashing down on the three artifacts, crushing them into powder upon impact.

"What did you do that for?"  Dante didn't answer Connor's query.  Instead, he stood still, allowing the now airborne particles to congregate until they swirled about the two of them.  At first, Connor didn't realize that anything was amiss.  That was until the drive-in began to flicker in and out, another location threatening to replace their surroundings.  "What…what's happening?"

Dante's voice reverberated through Connor's skull once again.  Connor was sure of it because Dante's lips never moved as his voice echoed in his head.  "A glimpse at our next move."

Connor's eyes moved quickly from Dante to the swirl now completely engulfing them.  As his eyes focused on the particulate wall surrounding them, the drive-in disappeared from his sight, finally being replace by a…a living room?

"Dawn.  You should really go to bed."

"But, Buffy's not here.  This might be the only time I get to stay up for the late movie, Tara."

Connor couldn't comprehend what had just happened.  That, and the fact he was out in the open led Connor to the inexplicable conclusion that he needed to hide.  As he dove for the base of the stairs, his leg slammed against some invisible object, causing him to grab it in pain.  As he lay on the ground, Dante spoke, no hint of concern in his voice for the young man now writhing in pain.  "Even though it looks like we're in a living domicile, we are still in the drive-in.  You'd do well to remember that."

Connor looked up at Dante, making his way back up to his feet, gingerly avoiding putting pressure on his bruised leg.  "Why are we here?"

"We're looking for a sign."

Connor slowly made his way over to Dante's side, still bothered by the sudden change in scenery.  It felt almost voyeuristic, spying on these young women.  People Connor had no knowledge of, no less.  As they quietly observed, Willow walked into the living room, a bowl of popcorn in her hand.

"Who's ready for Creature from the Deep?"

Tara groaned in defeat as she voiced her concern.  "Sweetie.  I really think Dawn should go to bed."

"Why?  So Dawnie's a little tired for homeroom tomorrow.  How often does one get to see Creature from the Deep at two in the morning?"

Dawn chimed in her approval.  "Yeah.  This is, like, monumental.  And other similar words."

Tara sighed, conceding defeat.  "Fine, fine.  You better hope Buffy doesn't find out about this.  She's bound to whip our butts into a nice puree if she ever finds out."

Willow and Dawn chuckled, Willow trying to assuage Tara's fears.  "Well, she's not going to find out unless one of us tells her.  Are you gonna tell her, Dawnie?"

"Nope."

"And you, Tara?"

Tara shrugged her shoulders, taking a handful of popcorn from the bowl.  "Creature of the Deep it is."

As Willow settled into Tara's side, Dawn lying on the carpet, Connor couldn't help but wonder if any of this had a purpose.  As far as he could tell, they seemed like three ordinary women.  However, before he had a chance to state his belief, Dawn spoke, her countenance changing from one of glee to one of curiosity.  "Did you guys feel that?"

Tara sat up, looking down at Dawn on the carpet.  "Feel what, sweetie?"

"I don't know.  It feels like we're not alone."

"I'm sure it's just the jitters.  Maybe you shouldn't watch this movie, after all."

As Dawn was about to agree with Tara, Willow chimed in, her voice filled with unease.  "No, I think Dawn's right.  I definitely feel something."

Before Connor realized it, Dante had left his side, walking towards what looked like the kitchen.  As Dante continued walking, the surrounding walls flickering around him to reveal the drive-in once again, Connor called out after him, trying to keep up as best as he could.  "Why are we leaving?  I thought we were waiting for a sign."

Dante never turned back as he spoke, the Summers' residence falling to the wayside.  "And we just got it."

To be continued 


	5. And The Horse You Rode In On

Title:  …And The Horse You Rode In On

Author:  Spike Speigel

E-mail:  spikespeigel26@yahoo.com

Rating:  R (Language and Sexual Situations)

Classification:  Buffy/Spike, Angel/Cordelia

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me because I don't have the imagination to even touch Mr. Whedon's.

Spoilers:  Sequel to Falling into You.  Anything's fair game from season six of BtVS and season three of AtS.

Summary:  Where Angels Tread (V of XIII)

Status:  Finished

The bed groaned and creaked under the pressure being inflicted on it.  One would have thought it was a contest, the groans of the bed trying to overcome the moans of the two individuals on top.  As the springs sighed and the impact of the headboard crashed repeatedly into the wall, it seemed as though the bed would give way, the legs falling to the wayside as the occupants collapsed onto the floor.  However, as quickly as the primal sounds crescendoed, they quickly dissipated, silence now filling the room.

One more guttural groan emerged from the silence before Wesley rolled onto his back, his breath coming in shallow gasps.  Lilah lay next to him, her gasps matching Wesley's.  Their bodies glistened in the moonlight pouring into the room, sweat beaded about their bodies.  Lilah never looked at Wesley as she spoke.  "God!  That was incredible."

Wesley's breath began to steady itself, his chest rising and falling in slow lulls.  "Why do you always talk?  I thought we agreed there'd be no talking."

Lilah's arm slinked down the length of her body, her hand clutching at the sheet now crumpled into a wad of fabric, pulling as much as she could over her body.  Gently chuckling, she answered Wesley Wyndham Price's query.  "You're still pretending I'm her, aren't you?"

"That's none of your concern."

Wesley rolled to his side, the image of the woman next to him entering the corner of his eye beginning to nauseate him.  As he reached for the glass of brandy on the nightstand, Lilah's voice filled his ears.  "I can see it in your eyes.  There's a glimmer of emotion in there when you're having your way with me.  So, it's either one of two things.  You're thinking of that bookish waif or you're starting to care about me."  Wesley's bitter laughter escaped from him as he brought the glass to his lips.  "Guess that answers my question."

Wesley's legs swung off the side of the bed as he placed the glass back in its previous location, his hands now clutching the edge of the mattress.  "Like you'd know what kindness actually looks like."

"Well, you've got me there."  Lilah slid her body over to Wesley, the sheet the only thing separating them as she pressed herself against his back, her arms sliding about his waist.  "But you still know how to care, right?  Or do you actually want to kill me?"

Wesley looked over his shoulder, genuinely confused by the question.  "What are you prattling about?"

Lilah slowly arched her neck skyward, her fingers gently tracing the faint bruises still evident on her skin.  "Don't tell me you've already forgotten about last night."

"That…that was an accident."

"Uh huh."  Lilah moved her lips to Wesley's shoulder, gently trailing kisses up to his earlobe.  "Face it, Wesley.  There's something dark lurking inside of you.  Anger.  Resentment.  Failure."  Her lips now hovered next to his ear, her voice a whisper.  "And frankly, I want to be around when you finally let go."  Wesley wasn't sure if it was Lilah's warm breath or the thought of her being right that sent a shiver up his back.  "Wanna see if we can get you to show your true colors?"  Lilah's hands moved from his waist, moving between his legs.  Wesley's eyes slightly closed, the touch causing him to lose all semblance of reason.  That was, until the phone's shrill tone interrupted the moment.

Wesley pulled himself away from Lilah's embrace, walking into the living room to answer the phone that continued its ringing as though it was a bleating sheep.  "Price here."

"Mr. Price.  We have a situation."

Wesley didn't bother turning his gaze to the noise behind him, knowing that Lilah had followed him into the living room.  "What kind of situation, Gavin?"

"There was a spatial disturbance in the vicinity."

"Have you pinpointed it?"

"In a matter of speaking."

Wesley sighed at the lawyer's cryptic answer.  "What exactly does that mean?"

"Well, we detected the disturbance in Los Angeles and another city."  A sound of rustling paper emanated through the receiver before the voice replaced it.  "Uh, the city of Sunnydale.  Angel's old stomping grounds."

 Sunnydale.  Now there was a word he thought he'd never hear again.  "I've heard of it.  Do we know exactly where it originated?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Price.  But the incident was too brief for an exact location."

"Of course it was.  Because if you did locate it, you wouldn't be calling me right now, would you?"  The silence on the other end was all the answer he needed.  "What does Wolfram and Hart want me to do?"

The voice wavered slightly, as though afraid to vocalize what needed to be said.  "You're to locate said anomaly and contain if possible.  Otherwise…"

Wesley finished the sentence.  "…termination."

"Correct.  And your liaison for this mission will be Ms. Morgan.  You wouldn't happen to know where she is, by any chance, do you?  We've been trying to reach her but kept on…"

Wesley quickly interrupted Gavin, a hint of anger in his voice.  "Why would I know where she is?  I'm not her Goddamned keeper!"

Gavin displayed no hint of trepidation like a normal man would upon hearing the angry tone resonating through the receiver.  "Be that as it may, I advise you to find her quickly and figure out this quandary.  Your success in this case will ensure eternal gratitude from Wolfram and Hart."

Wesley didn't bother with a reply.  Instead, he dropped the phone into the cradle as he turned around.  Lilah sat on the sofa, legs curled underneath her, the solitary sheet wrapped about her visage.  "What did Gavin want?"

Wesley ran a hand through his bed-ridden hair before speaking.  "Get dressed.  We've got work to do."

Buffy sat on the bed, looking around at her environs.  For a hotel room, it wasn't half bad.  While the surroundings should have been foreign to her, something in the back of her mind kept on telling her otherwise.  Like she had been here before.  But, that couldn't have been possible.  Could it?  Sure, she had been here before once upon a time.  But she didn't recall actually ever seeing a bedroom.  Did she?  Before she could immerse herself in the thought, a knock at the door got her attention.  "Who is it?"

"It's me, pet.  You decent?"

Buffy gently giggled as she rose from the bed, walking over to the door.  "What would you do if I wasn't?"

Before Spike could answer, Buffy opened the door, Spike standing in the doorframe.  "Well, right now, nothing.  Unless the whole 'Angel not knowing' thing is out the window?"

Buffy stepped to the side of the door, allowing Spike entry into the room.  "'Fraid not."

"Well, then.  I guess nothing it is."  Spike moved into the room, Buffy closing the door behind her.  She stood at the door for a bit, watching as Spike situated himself on the bed.  His legs hung from the edge while his arms lay under his head as his gaze fell on the ceiling.

Buffy moved over to the bed, her legs on either side of his knees as she looked down at him, a hint of concern in her voice.  "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong.  Why?"

"It's just, after what happened at the hospital, you've been quiet."

Spike moved his gaze to Buffy, her hands now on his chest as he spoke.  "Just mulling things over.  That's all."

Buffy looked at him for a while, unable to read his emotions, his face a blank canvas.  She gently smiled at him before bringing her head to rest on his shoulder, his arm instinctively wrapping about her shoulders.  They lay motionless for a while, Buffy unsure of whether she should ask him or not.  Curiosity got the better of her.  "Do you want to talk about it?"

Spike's arm moved to the small of Buffy's back, his thumb gently caressing the slight concavity at the base, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling.  "If it's all the same to you, Buffy, can we just leave it be for a bit?"  Buffy would have spoken by now, but the tone in his voice made her decide otherwise.  There was something there.  The typical lilt in his voice was gone, replaced now by, what?  Was it fear?  Sadness?  "Just wanna lay here for a while, is all."  She was wrong.  It sounded like he was fatigued, worn down.  That he was desperately tired.  Almost like he'd lived a thousand lives in a matter of moments.  Like a man that had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Buffy raised her head from his chest, her face now in Spike's line of sight.  Spike's gaze locked with hers, a hint of puzzlement on his face at the look she was now giving him.  Before he could voice his curiosity, Buffy slowly leaned forward, her lips gently grazing his.  Spike initially kept his gaze on Buffy, taking in the sight of the woman now immersed in the kiss.  Years ago, he would have been plotting the best way to end her life.  Now, he couldn't imagine not being like this.  Kissing the woman he loved because he could.

Spike's eyes slowly closed, immersing himself in the kiss.  His hand moved up her back, eventually finding its way into her hair.  Buffy's hand moved to the side of his face, cupping it while the other remained close to his heart, their lips moving in unison, as though they were made for just this purpose.

As Spike began to lose himself in the kiss, Buffy reluctantly pulled back, a slight gasp indicating that lack of oxygen was the reason she broke their bond.  As Buffy's breathing began to assume a normal rhythm once again, Spike's hand gently caressed her hair as he spoke.  "Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"

Buffy tenderly smiled, her emotions for the man below her getting the better of her.  "Because I can.  And, because, you looked like you needed it."

Spike grinned slightly as he spoke.  "Remind me to be contemplative more often around you, then."

"You got it, Floppy."

Spike's grin turned into a halfhearted frown upon hearing the nickname once again.  "Still on that, eh?"

"What can I say?"  Buffy's hands moved to Spike's hair, her fingers tenderly running though the near silken strands of his hair.  "I love your hair like this."

"Tell the truth, I'm starting to like it more than the Billy Idol look.  Makes me look more manly, yeah?"

Buffy chuckled softly, leaning in once again as she spoke.  "Whatever you say, Floppy.  Whatever you say."  As Buffy's lips were about to touch Spike's once again, a knock at the door disrupted the moment, both turning their gaze to the wooden door.  "Who is it?"

"It's me."  Spike frowned to such a degree that Buffy could have sworn that it actually made a sound.  Buffy slowly backed away from Spike, Spike moving in kind with her as they slid off the bed.  Spike situated himself in one of the armchairs in the room while Buffy moved to the door.

As Buffy opened the door, the figure standing in the hallway looked tired as well, as should be expected given the events of the previous night.  "Angel.  What is it?"

"Hey, Buffy.  Can I come in?"

"Um, yeah."  Buffy stepped away from the entrance, Angel awkwardly smiling as he walked past her.

His lips began to move, however, the sight of Spike sitting in Buffy's room made whatever information he was about to deliver moot.  "What is he doing here?"

Spike slightly nodded his head, trying to resist the urge to get into it with his former partner in crime.  "Hullo to you too, mate.  What brings you here this time of day?  Shouldn't you be getting your beauty rest?"

Angel never bothered to look at Spike as his attention remained on Buffy.  "Could say the same to you.  So, why are you here again?"

Before Spike could showcase his annoyance at being ignored, Buffy spoke.  "How's your friend?"

Angel sighed, the exhaustion now prevalent on his face.  "No word yet.  Cordelia said he was still in the emergency room.  It was…"  The image of Gunn's mangled body floated through his consciousness, the reality of the situation now sinking in.  "It was bad."

Buffy gently placed her hand on Angel's shoulder, tenderly squeezing it as a sign of support.  Her eyes flitted over to Spike, certain that a wave of jealously would overcome him.  So, she was unprepared when she saw Spike with a solemn look on his face, not even considering the fact that Buffy was close to Angel.  Her gaze fell on Angel once again as she voiced her concern.  "Is there anything we can do?"

"It's okay.  Cordelia and Fred have the hospital covered.  And Lorne seems to be doing better."  Angel was about to get into it with Spike once again, but he saw the same thing Buffy had seen earlier.  Spike didn't look like he was ready to mix it up.  In fact, he seemed genuinely concerned.  Maybe he was tired?  That's why Spike actually looked like he gave a damn.

Unfortunately for Angel, Spike caught the look that Angel had just given him.  "What's on your mind?"

Angel's brow furrowed, Buffy now crossing her arms across her chest.  There was still the matter of Spike knowing what Cordelia had seen in her vision.  And, as long as that remained a mystery, Angel didn't trust Spike as fast as he could plunge a stake into his black heart.  "You still haven't told us how you knew what Cordy saw in her vision?"

"Yeah, I did."  Spike rose from the armchair, not liking the insinuation that was clearly evident in Angel's tone.  "Tweedy did something to me."

"I'm not buying it."

Buffy came to Spike's defense, seeing as how Angel still had his mind set on Spike being out for only himself.  "I was there, Angel.  I saw Mr. Tweedy touch Spike and then the room was enveloped in a blue light."

Angel's words were addressed to Buffy even though his gaze never left Spike.  "Yeah?  Seems kinda convenient that the one man that could have cleared Spike of this doomsday accusation dies as soon as Spike steps foot in L.A."

Spike stepped closer to Angel, Buffy's look turning from one of concern to one of worry.  "What the hell are you getting at?  That I wanted this Tweedy chap shuffled off this mortal coil?"

"If the shoe fits."

"You stupid git!"

Buffy finally had enough of the copious amount of testosterone being flung about.  She intervened, stepping between the two men and pushing them apart from one another.  "That's enough!"  Angel was about to protest, but Buffy cut him off.  "I don't want to hear it.  Spike and I came here voluntarily to prove that Spike has nothing to do with what your people heard.  I think Spike deserves the benefit of the doubt."

Angel's retort was quick and concise.  "I'll give him the benefit of the doubt once he earns it."

Spike growled softly as he pushed his way past the former couple.  Buffy turned to Spike as he began to move to the door.  "Where are you going?"

"Anywhere that's not here.  Only so many sodding insults I can take in one day."

As Spike began to walk down the hallway, Angel called out to him.  "The sun's out.  You're not going anywhere."

Spike gently chuckled, a hint of superiority in his voice as he spoke.  "Well, it's a good thing I'm not you then.  Yeah?"

When Spike's footfalls began to fade in the distance, Angel turned to Buffy, confusion lacing his tone.  "What'd he mean by that?"

"He meant that unlike you, he can walk in the daylight without getting all toasty."

"What?"

Buffy's tone remained resentful as she spoke.  "You had no right to say those things to him."

Unfortunately, Angel was still stuck on the previous bit of knowledge now bestowed on him.  "What do you mean he can walk in the sun?"

Buffy sighed, frustration overcoming her.  She realized that the only way Spike would ever have a chance in Angel's eyes would be if she told him the truth.  Not the whole story.  Just the parts that were absolutely necessary for Buffy to get her point across.  "Sit down, Angel.  I think you should know what's happened in the past few months."

The course list lay in front of her, but her heart wasn't really in it.  She still had time to enroll before add/drop, but seriously, did she even belong there anymore?  Sure, Tara was still doing the college thing.  But, how could she even think about going back?  Not after all that had happened.  Willow continued to read the course synopses, nothing really appealing to her.

Tara had suggested that getting back into a daily routine might help put the past behind.  To help her move on with her life.  But that wasn't possible.  She had taken a life.  Might have taken more if her friends hadn't stopped her.  If Spike hadn't stopped her.  She knew the marks were still on her neck.  It became sort of a ritual, touching the two indentations in her flesh to assure herself that it wasn't a dream.  That she had almost…

Willow sighed as she slouched back into the cushions of the sofa.  Where exactly did she belong now?  A slight grin graced her lips as she wondered if this was the same mindset Buffy had when she came back as well.  If it was, then Willow totally understood Buffy's actions over the past year.  Her withdrawal from the group.  Her alienation from her sister.  Her trysts with Spike.  Anything to feel alive.

But it was more than that, wasn't it?  It had to be.  After all, Buffy and Spike were still, for all intents and purposes, a couple.  A couple.  When it came to think of a possible suitor for her friend, Spike definitely wasn't on that list.  Angel maybe.  Definitely Riley.  But Spike?  God, they've hated each other as far back as Willow could remember.

Maybe that was it, though.  They hated each other because they realized how much alike the other was.  How perfect things could be if they allowed themselves that one moment of vulnerability.  That one moment of happiness.  Now that she thought about it, Spike could actually be the one to finally grant Buffy that small modicum of happiness that had eluded her for the majority of her time in Sunnydale.  A normal life.  Well, as normal as it got for a Slayer at any rate.

While Willow's body continued to push against the cushions of the couch, as though she was trying to move through some secret passage akin to Harry Potter's train station, a high pitch ring shook her from her deliberation.  It took her a moment to realize that the noise was the new cordless sitting on the table by the stairs.  Willow didn't hesitate as she rose from the couch, mainly because she finally had a reason not to look for possible classes to enroll for the semester.  With a lighthearted tone, she answered the phone.  "Summers resident."

At first, the line remained open, silence coming through the receiver.  As Willow began to think it was someone with a wrong number, a familiar voice finally broke the silence.  "Willow?"

The voice was unmistakable.  There were only two people she knew with that accent, and she knew that the other one was with Buffy in Los Angeles at the moment.  "Giles?"

Another moment of awkward silence hovered in the air, neither knowing what exactly to say.  After all, Willow was now acclimating herself to being around her friends after what had come before, she could only imagine what Giles was feeling at that moment upon hearing her voice.  "How…"  She could almost hear Giles struggling for words on the other end as he spoke.  "…how are you?"

"I'm good."  She felt that she needed to get the point across that everything was indeed okay.  "Really."

Giles softly chuckled, realizing what Willow was trying to imply.  "That's good to hear.  I'd love to talk more but my plane's about to leave the terminal."

"Plane?"  Willow didn't realize she was smiling until her words came out.  "Are you coming home?"

Home.  That sounded nice.  He'd been in England for a little over a year now.  He'd lived here most of his life.  But it wasn't home.  No.  Home was where his family was.  And that was Sunnydale.  "Well, that's why I'm calling.  I was hoping that Buffy would pick me up from the airport once I land."

"That might be a problem."

Giles' tone suddenly contained a hint of worry as he spoke.  "Why's that?"

"She's in L.A. with Spike and Angel."  Willow didn't realize it, but Giles had begun to laugh.  Hysterically.  "What's so funny, Giles?"

The laughter curtailed to mere sniggers as Giles tried to complete a sentence.  "It's nothing.  It's just Spike and Angel and Buffy…and…and…"

Willow couldn't help but join in with the laughter upon thinking about the situation Buffy now found herself in.  "It is pretty funny, isn't it?  She sure knows how to pick 'em, eh?"

"You can say that again."

The laughter subsided as Willow spoke, wanting to explain Buffy's current dilemma.  "It's not what you think, though.  According to Angel, Spike's supposed to be responsible for destroying the world."

The lighthearted tone quickly disappeared from Giles' voice as he shifted into a more serious nature.  "So, Buffy and Spike are in Los Angeles…"

Willow finished his thought.  "…so they could clear Spike of Angel's accusation."

"I see.  Any word on that, yet?"

"No, none.  But I'm sure they'll get everything straightened out by the time you get here."  Suddenly, the obvious question occurred to Willow.  "When are you getting here, anyway?"

"I've got a stopover in France, so I'll probably be there sometime tomorrow evening."  A muted voice came from the background, almost muffling Giles' last words.  "I've got to go.  That was final boarding.  I'll give you a ring when I get into Sunnydale, if that's okay with you?"

Willow slightly smiled as she took in Giles' words.  Even now he was still thinking of her emotional state.  She'd have to rectify that once he got back.  "Of course it's okay.  Tara, Dawn and I will be waiting for you.  And I'll call Buffy to see if they'll be able to make it as well."

"Very well.  Goodbye, Willow."

"Bye, Giles.  See you tomorrow."  Giles chuckled slightly as he heard the almost giddy tone in Willow's voice, almost as though she were a child waiting for Christmas to come that much quicker so she could tear through the ill-fated wrapping.  Then there was the end signal followed by Willow replacing the receiver back into the cradle.

Giles was coming home.  Buffy and Xander had accepted her back into the fold.  Things were going well with Tara.  Things were definitely looking up.  Willow smiled as she lifted the receiver back up, punching the appropriate buttons.

"Wait.  You're telling me that Spike, William the Bloody, voluntarily stepped into an energy field that came from the gates of Hell to stop Willow, of all people, from destroying the world?  And now he's not exactly a vampire because he can withstand all the things that I can't?"

Buffy wondered why such a simple explanation had now taken a little over an hour to detail sufficiently for Angel.  Had to give it to him, though.  He wasn't one that readily forgave.  That much was evident as she sat in the hotel room watching Angel as he paced up and down the carpet, trying to wrap his brain about the idea that Spike did something good.  Hell, heroic when you got down to it.

To be honest, Buffy didn't think Spike would go through with it.  It was clear that he had certain feelings for Buffy, but Buffy didn't label it as love until she lost him.  Funny, that.  While he was around, she didn't think much of him.  It wasn't until he died that she realized how much she really needed him.  How much better her life was with him in it.

But, she had been given a second chance.  And she wasn't going to screw it up.  Not if they had a chance of something more.  "Angel, why are you trying to be difficult?"

The look he gave her was one of confusion coupled with astonishment.  As though he couldn't believe what was happening in his little pocket of existence.  That the news his ex-lover had delivered had been of a different tongue.  One he couldn't understand.  "Difficult?"  Angel stopped his pacing to stand in front of the armchair that Buffy found herself glued in since Spike left the Hyperion.  She hoped he was okay.  Not physically.  Spike knew how to take care of himself.  She was worried about his emotional state.  It couldn't be easy, his past coming back to haunt him in the form of her ex-boyfriend.  To blatantly accuse him of being no good.  Of foretelling of his involvement in bringing about Armageddon.   "I'm not trying to be anything, Buffy.  What I'm doing is listening to the ramblings of a mad…"  He gave her a glance, realizing that the gender he had in mind wouldn't work with her.  "…person."

Buffy rose from the chair, standing directly in front of Angel now, her eyes locked defiantly with his.  "Look.  I don't care what you think, okay?  I've told you what's happened.  That's all you're gonna get.  I'm just a little disturbed that you don't take my word at face value anymore."

Angel's countenance turned from one of frustration to one of concern upon hearing her words.  "It's not like that, and you know it.  It's just…it's Spike."

"I know who he is, Angel.  He's been helping us for quite a while now."  She placed the emphasis on 'helping' just to get it through his thick skull that Spike had changed.  But, based on the look Angel now had on his face, she realized that no words would be adequate to convince Angel of Spike's character.

"Look, I get that he's been the..."

"I swear to God, if you say 'flavor of the week', I'm gonna shove my foot where the sun doesn't shine."

Angel winced slightly, mostly at the imagery now forming in his head, before he spoke again.  "I wasn't going to say that."  Buffy nodded slightly, satisfied that Angel was beginning to act like an adult.  "I was gonna say month."  Somewhat.

Buffy sighed out of frustration as she spoke.  "Why won't you give him the benefit of the doubt?"  She wasn't ready for his rebuttal.

"Why do you give him the benefit of the doubt?"  Angel's arms were now crossed about his chest, his demeanor serious.

"We give him the benefit because…"

Angel interrupted her explanation, his tone becoming more focused, almost prodding.  "That's not what I asked."  Buffy turned her gaze from his, afraid that Angel was finally piecing together the puzzle fragments.  His hand moved to her chin, gently tilting her gaze back to his.  "Why do _you give him the benefit of the doubt?  After everything he's done to you?  How can you just treat him as another person?"_

Buffy tried her best for an answer, not entirely paying attention to the words coming out of her mouth.  Mostly because she was too busy trying to maintain her composure under Angel's gaze now boring a hole into her being.  "Because he's changed."

"How?"

"I told you already."

"Okay, beside the fact he sacrificed himself to save the world.  What else has he done to prove he's changed?"

Buffy looked at Angel in astonishment at his words.  "You're not serious?  Saving the world's not enough for you?"

Angel's response was quick and to the point.  "When it comes to Spike, yeah.  Last time he tried to save the world, he took off with Dru while he left us to fight to the death."

"That's not fair.  He was different back then.  So were you, if you've forgotten."

"Oh, I remember.  But I got my soul back.  What's Spike's excuse?"

Buffy pulled herself away from Angel's grip, disgusted at the man standing in front of her as her emotions began to get the better of her.  "Just because you need a soul to play nice doesn't mean all vampires need one.  Spike's doing fine without one."

Angel maintained his distance as Buffy began to step closer to him, her gaze now matching his in intensity.  "Is that right?"

"Yeah, that's right."  Buffy now stood mere inches from Angel, the anger beginning to swell in her.  "Without a soul, Spike helped me stop Glory from turning this planet into Hell on Earth.  Without a soul, Spike kept his promise to me and took care of Dawn when I died.  Without a soul, Spike was there for me when I got pulled back into this hard, ugly, bitter world by my friends because they thought I was in pain."  Buffy waited for a response from Angel, believing that she had covered all of the major points of why Spike deserved a second chance.  However, the response wasn't what she expected.

"You seemed to say 'me' a lot just now.  Any particular reason why?"

Buffy didn't realize she had said _me.  Did she?  "I don't know what you're talking about."_

Angel subtly smiled as Buffy began to turn away from his eyes once again.  "You do remember I'm a vampire, right?"  Buffy slowly turned back to Angel, confusion now encompassing her person.  However, with one word, her confusion quickly turned into fear.  "Floppy?"

Did Angel hear her conversation with Spike before he came in?  It was a hotel.  Most likely, the walls were as thin as the corrugated boxes stuck in the garage back home.  What could she possibly say?  She felt trapped.  That Angel had gotten the better of her.  There was no reason to lie anymore.  "How much did you hear?"

"Enough."  His tone softened as he remained in front of her.  "Buffy, what were you thinking?  This is Spike we're talking about."

"What?  You're going to get into another fight like you did with Riley?"

Angel frowned slightly, finally getting affirmation about his initial hunch.  Buffy and Spike were definitely an item.  "For God's sake, Buffy.  Tell me this isn't serious."

Buffy retorted quickly, hating the fact that Angel was treating her like a little girl now.  "And what if it is?"

Angel sighed, the requisite lack of air following, as he spoke.  "I'm just looking out for you, Buffy.  I just want you to be safe."

"Well, that's not your job."  Buffy could feel herself on the edge of tears.  How dare he try and condescend her.  "This is my life, and I'll do with it whatever I damn well want."

She expected him to argue that point with her.  Instead, he remained calm, asking her one simple question.  "Do you love him?"

Her answer was almost instinctual.  "I do."  She expected Angel to lose his temper and point out all of the reasons why her being with Spike was, among all the blunders in the world, the worst.  As she prepared herself for the worst of it, Angel surprised her once again, his tone calm yet intense.

"You sure?  Do you really know what that word means?"

Confusion now mixed with Buffy's initial anger, her tone reflecting both.  "What are you getting at?"

"It's just that, I can count two distinct instances in your life where you thought you were in love.  Me, for one."  He nodded his head slightly to indicate his example.  "And Riley.  And, as far as I can see, those didn't turn out so well.  So, what I'm getting at is, are you sure you're really in love with Spike?"

Buffy hesitated as Angel's words began to sink in.  "Of course I love him."

Angel nodded once again, indicating he believed Buffy's statement.  "Fine.  But you've got to ask yourself this.  What makes Spike different than the others that came before him?  Hell, Riley should have been the one.  He could have given you everything you deserve.  A picket fence.  The two point three kids.  He could have given you normal.  But, then again, in your line of work, it's hard to distinguish emotions when all you see is anguish and death."  Angel paused, wanting his words to sink in before he continued.  "So, what I'm getting at is, are you sure it's love you're feeling for Spike?  Or is it something that you think might be love?  Like you did with me and Riley."

Buffy opened her mouth slightly, about to answer the question.  However, as quickly as her mouth opened, it closed once again.  Her gaze locked with his, the anger once permeating her being quickly seeping away from her, confusion now holding a monopoly on her emotional state.  Confusion and something else.  Something she couldn't identify.

While the two stood in silence, Angel's words beginning to make her question her feelings, a shrill tone echoed in the room, shattering the silence.  Buffy looked quizzically at Angel as he pointed to her hip.  Buffy eventually deciphered Angel's gesture, her hand sliding into her pocket.  She casually pulled out the cell phone, holding the LCD screen to her face.  The words flashed 'HOME' followed by her home phone number.  It was most likely Willow since she'd be the only one home at this time of day.

"I…I have to take this."

Angel nodded as he began to make his way out of the hotel room.  He didn't say a word as he walked into the hallway, realizing that maybe he had pushed too hard based on the lost look on her face.  But, he was only looking out for her.  God knew what Spike's ulterior motive was.

As he pondered this point, Buffy's gaze still remained on the phone in her hand.  It continued its annoying shrill as she finally realized what that feeling was in the back of her mind.  She rarely felt it, but when she did, she knew that it wasn't to be taken lightly.  Especially in her line of work.  There was no mistaking it.  It was fear.  Fear that Angel might be right.

It was all Cordelia could do to keep Fred calm.  When they had returned from Pylea, Fred had been an emotional mess, keeping everything inside.  Now, Fred was the exact opposite as her tears continued to trickle down her face, mascara beginning to stain the top of her cheeks.

Fred remained huddled close to Cordelia's side, Cordelia wrapping one arm about her friend's shoulder.  Cordelia delicately squeezed Fred's shoulder, pulling her closer.  It had been about six hours since they brought Gunn into the hospital.  She knew that Angel wanted to be there for Gunn.  But someone had to stay with Lorne just in case he took a turn for the worst.

Still, it didn't mean that it didn't hurt Angel that he couldn't be at both Lorne's and Gunn's side.  But, there it was.  The world kept going, even when friends got sick.  Got hurt.  And with the world continuing, so did the evil in it.  It was a thankless job, but someone had to stand up for the little guy.  For the people that didn't know that there really were things that went bump in the night.

It had taken all of Cordelia's shrewdness as well as a little pleading to convince Angel to remain at the hotel with Lorne while Fred and herself stayed with Gunn.  If Angel had his way, both Lorne and Gunn would be getting treatment at the hospital, damn the consequences.

"What do you think they're doing in there?"

Cordelia looked down at Fred, her tears subsiding as she tried to speak.  Six hours.  What could they possibly be doing, indeed.  "I don't know, honey.  But Gunn's in good hands."  She gently smiled as she brushed a strand of hair from Fred's forehead.  "Everything's going to be fine."

"How can you be so sure?  God, Cordelia.  He was so still and covered in all that…"  The word she was looking for was blood.  Cordelia knew it.  Fred knew it.  But she never said it, the tears breaking through once again.

Cordelia reassured Fred with a gentle squeeze, her chin now resting on the top of her distraught friend's head as she whispered.  "It's okay, Fred.  Let it all out."  And she did.  Cordelia felt the tears begin to seep through her blouse, Fred's makeup most likely ruining the shirt.  But, that didn't matter.  She could always get another blouse.  Another friend, that was a different story.  "Hey, I've got the hookup to the Powers.  If Gunn were really in trouble, they would have cued me in.  Right?"

Fred's sobs intermittently escaped from her lips as she slightly nodded her head.  That was good.  She finally had something to hold on to.  The hope that Gunn would pull through.  But six hours?

"Got room for one more?"

Cordelia turned her head toward the new yet familiar voice.  "Spike?  What are you…"

He answered her question without ever hearing it.  "Figured you two could use some company, is all."  He knelt in front of Fred, his hand gently cupping her chin as he moved her gaze to his.  "How you doing, pigeon?"  Spike gently moved the pad of his thumb under her left eye, wiping away the tear remnants.  His reward was a gentle smile.

"I'm so worried about Charles.  The doctors won't tell us anything.  And it's been so long since…"

Spike spoke, his voice reassuring.  "You two wait here.  I'll go see what I can find out, okay?"  Fred gently smiled as Spike looked over to Cordelia.  "Just make sure the pigeon's okay, yeah?"

Cordelia nodded slightly, somewhat in awe, as Spike walked toward the Nurse's Station to find out any information about their friend.  She could finally see what Angel meant.  It was definitely weird, seeing Spike act like this.  Well, there was the fact that she was basing his behavior simply on word of mouth.  She'd only seen him a few times, but didn't really know him.  She knew of him, though.  Of when he tortured Angel for the Gem of Amara.  Angel had filled in the blanks, but judging on Spike's current behavior, Cordelia had to wonder if Angel had exaggerated some of the finer points.

Maybe they were wrong about him?  Just misjudging him.  Cordelia knew something about being misjudged.  Before starting her life over in Los Angeles, she always had the moniker of spoiled brat, snob, and God knew what else following her around.  It wasn't until Angel that she realized what kind of person she could be.  That there was kindness under that once rough exterior.

"Hey, Cordy."

"Hey, Angel."  Wait.  What?  She almost did a second take, her neck almost suffering from whiplash as she turned her gaze from Spike's vanishing form to Angel, now standing in front of her.  "Angel?  What are you…"

"Needed to get out for a bit."

"Especially on a nice, _sunny day like today."  Angel smirked at his friend's sarcasm as his gaze remained on the figure moving down the hallway.  "And what about Lorne?"_

"Buffy's there.  Lorne'll be fine."  He finally turned his attention to the two women situated in the plastic chairs that looked something like a chain gang, each attached to the adjacent by means of a long metal bar.  "How long has he been here?"

Cordelia didn't have to ask whom he was talking about.  It was obvious as Angel's gaze returned to the figure now conversing with the nurse at the reception desk.  Fred finally spoke, her tears now under control.  "He just got here.  He wanted to wait with us."

Angel let out a noise that was somewhere between a chuckle and a grunt.  As his hands found their way into his coat pockets, Cordelia spoke her mind.  "Why are you really here, Angel?"

His gaze returned to the two women.  More to the point, to Cordelia's.  "What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I mean."  She would have gotten up and looked him right in the eye to call him a bad liar, but Fred was still bundled in her arms.  "Ever since Buffy and Spike have been here, you've been giving him a hard time."

She expected him to lash out about Spike's constant villainy and lack of moral fiber.  So, it came as a surprise when Angel's reaction was anything but hostile.  "You're right.  People change."  He turned his gaze back down the hall, seeing Spike now walking in the group's direction.  While the others couldn't see his face, Angel could.  And the slight grimace on Spike's face couldn't be denied.  There was definitely apprehension between the two men.  The question was, why?  It had been years since either had seen the other.  Their lives were no longer linked.  So, what was the reason for the tension?  Simple answer, Buffy.  Complicated answer?  That was a bit trickier.

Spike did his best to hide his disdain for the man in front of him as he spoke.  "No word yet.  But he's out of surgery, if that means anything."

Fred weakly smiled, the news a ray of hope.  "He'll be hungry.  We should get something for him so when he wakes up, he'll be able to eat."

Angel was about to dismiss Fred's observation, but Spike's subtle headshake stopped him as Cordelia spoke to the woman in her arms.  "That sounds like a good idea.  Let's go see what they have in the cafeteria.  We can grab something to eat while we're there."  Fred nodded slightly as she wiped the tear remnants from her face.  As they got up from their seats, Cordelia turned to the two men, utter contrasts if she ever saw one.  "You guys want anything?"

"I'm good."

"No thanks."

Cordelia didn't mean to smile, but their answers were almost in unison.  The men seemed to notice this as well, each now looking at the other uncomfortably.  "Well, you guys play nice while we're gone."

Fred added her two cents before they walked down the hall looking for the cafeteria.  "And let us know if there's any news about Charles."

Angel was about to reassure his coworker and friend, but Spike beat him to the punch.  "'Course, pigeon.  Now, go on and get a bite.  We'll let you know if he comes to."

While Cordelia and Fred turned the corner, disappearing from their sight, Angel broke the silence between them, the hum of electricity in the air.  "So, what are you doing here?"

"Just checking in on our friends."  Our?  That wasn't the Spike Angel knew.  Maybe Buffy was right.  This Spike wasn't the same person he knew once upon a time.  "Not that it's any of your sodding business."  Then again.

"Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot."

Spike chuckled softly, cynicism lacing its tone.  "And how'd you figure that?  Was it before or after you tried to stake me?"

"I deserve that."

"Damn right you do.  And another thing…"

Angel disrupted Spike's rant, his muscles tense from the infuriation now coursing through his body at the aspect of what he was trying to do.  "Spike, would you shut up so I can apologize?"

Spike stepped back slightly, maybe out of shock, maybe out of curiosity.  Either way, the bite in his tone was gone now.  "Apologize?"

"Yeah."

"To me?"

Angel chuckled slightly at Spike's confusion as he spoke.  "Yeah, to you."

Spike tilted his head at Angel, the palm of his hand now massaging the back of his neck.  After a moment of silence, Spike's voice softly escaped from his lips.  "I'm dead, aren't I?"

"What?"

"I'm dead, and this is hell."

The annoyance quickly emerged once again in Angel's tone.  "What are you talking about?"

"This must be hell because…"

"…I'm apologizing to you?"

Both men looked at each other before sharing a laugh.  Spike ran his hand through his hair as Angel's laughter began to abate.  "You're right.  This can't be hell."

"And you're sure of this, how?"

Spike smirked as he answered the question.  "Because your hair isn't smothering me to death."  He quickly moved out of the way of Angel's fist, thrown playfully, but probably with some force behind it as well.

"You're a bastard, you know that?"

"Well, what's the saying?  Takes one to know one?"  Angel nodded in affirmation while Spike moved to one of the seats once occupied by the female contingent.  Angel followed suit while Spike queried Angel once again.  "So, how'd you get here?  It's not like they make SPF 1000."

"I use the sewers to get around during the day."

"Well, that answers my next question about the pungent odor."

"Shut your trap, alright?"  Another shared chuckle between the two men as they situated themselves in the hard plastic curvatures called chairs, waiting for any news about Gunn's condition.

Haruna's fingers pulled along the asphalt of the parking lot, holding them up to her face, her thumb and forefinger gently rubbing the golden dust between them.  "He's performed the ritual."

Gabriel knelt next to her, his eyes fixed on the ground as he spoke.  "What do you think he was looking for?"

"There's no telling."  Haruna gently brushed the gold flecks against her side as she turned her head to the side, looking at Whistler.  "That's why you're here, magic man."

"Hello.  Demon here.  And what I do shouldn't be classified as magic.  Magic's something two clowns in Vegas do with their pet tigers in a dark room."

Haruna sighed, disinterested in hearing Whistler's speech about his special talents once again.  "That's all well and good.  But you've got something we don't.  So get over here and do that voodoo that you do so well."

Whistler grinned slightly as he moved toward his companions, his hat now in his hand.  Haruna and Gabriel stood up, allowing Whistler better access to the artifact remains strewn across the drive-in asphalt.  Whistler's hand fell against Gabriel's chest, the hulking beast looking on in curiosity.  "Hold on to that, will you?  Wouldn't want it to get dirty."

Gabriel took the hat from Whistler, no hint of humor in his voice.  "Very well.  Just show us what Dante saw."

"Getting to that, big fellow."  He turned to Haruna.  "You guys might want to step back.  I wouldn't want to be responsible for any hurt feelings."  Neither objected, allowing Whistler a wide berth as they stepped back.  Whistler nodded before kneeling in front of the golden dust on the ground.  His hands came together in a loud clap, followed by his palms rubbing against one another.  His lids slowly lowered, his eyelashes now twitching as Whistler clenched his eyelids shut.  Then, without warning, his palms came down on the asphalt, the remnants of the relics swirling in front of him as though a storm cloud had decided to watch the curious ministrations Whistler was now going through.

Haruna and Gabriel maintained their distance as the grains of material continued to congregate in the air, beginning to form a definite shape.  Haruna looked over to Gabriel, shooting him a 'here we go' look, Gabriel nodding his head in agreement.  Before they knew what happened, the particulate matter created a circular border, a bright flash of light pouring out of the center.  Had it been night, the light would have surely blinded anyone foolish enough to look directly into the center.  Luckily, the sun overhead distorted the light enough to allow Haruna and Gabriel to look into the makeshift looking glass.  Who knew, maybe Alice might step through?

Haruna raised her hand to her face, shielding her eyes from the light pouring from the ring created by Whistler.  As she began to step closer to get a better look, Gabriel's hand encircled her forearm.  "This is close enough."

Haruna nodded agreement before turning back to the images now being formed in the circle floating in front of Whistler, his eyes now squinting to see what Dante had been interested in.  The images rippled, as though someone had thrown a pebble into a pond, the cascading waves interfering with the image.  However, just like the ripples in a pond, the distortions eventually ceased, allowing the three companions to glimpse what Dante had the previous night.

A woman stood in a living room, a phone cradled in the crook of her neck.  Her vibrant red hair was the first thing that caught Haruna's attention.  It was almost as red as hers.  But, while hers was straight and shoulder length, Haruna's was wavy, the length threatening to invade the small of her back.

Gabriel spoke, curiosity in his voice.  "Why can't we hear her?"

Whistler answered his companion's query, his mind identify the familiarity of the environment in the circular cloud.  "Because we're not in close proximity of her.  Theoretically, we could step through the image and hear what she's saying, but I don't think you two would find that particularly pleasant, now would you?"  The silence was the only answer Whistler needed as his gaze moved about the living room, the redheaded woman obviously filled with joy as she spoke into the receiver.

As his gaze continued to examine the image in front of him, they suddenly stopped at the fireplace.  More to the fact, the pictures on the mantle.  So, that was why the room seemed so familiar.  Because he had seen it from the outside once upon a time.  Looking in at a Slayer that was mere hours from saving the world, even while that meant sacrificing the person that meant the world to her.  Well, back then anyway.  Today, it seemed as though there was someone else in her life.  Someone that Haruna and Gabriel knew rather well.

That didn't matter.  All that mattered now was figuring out why Dante would be interested in the Slayer.  Whistler removed his hands from the ground, the image quickly dissipating before the congregation of golden flecks fell back to the asphalt.  He lifted himself from his knees before walking over to Gabriel.  Gabriel tossed the hat over to Whistler, he placing it back on his head in one deft motion.  "Well, boy and girl.  It seems that we've reached an impasse."

"How so?"

Whistler turned his gaze to Haruna as he tilted the brim of his hat slightly downward toward his forehead.  "Because we're in L.A. and Dante's looking for someone in Sunnydale.  The Slayer, to be more precise."

Gabriel chimed in with an equally valid question.  "So, do we stay here in Los Angeles and continue our search for Dante, or do we split up so we can cover both places at once?"

"Well, that's up to our intrepid leader, now isn't it, Haruna?"

Haruna didn't respond to Whistler's glib description of her position in the trio.  Instead, she looked off into the distance, looking at nothing in particular as she mulled over the decision.  Neither seemed a good choice, because each came with a downside.  Stay together and allow Dante to continue with his machinations.  Split up and weaken the group.  She didn't want to make the choice, but based on what was at stake, she was the only one capable of making it.  "Gabriel will go to Sunnydale to keep an eye out for the Slayer.  Whistler, you and I will continue our search in L.A. for Dante."  She finally turned around, her eyes gentle as her gaze met Gabriel's.  "You be careful."

Gabriel smiled slightly, surprising Whistler.  Who knew the big man had feelings?  "As well as yourself, Haruna."

Haruna nodded.  "Keep in contact and let us know if anything happens.  Anything at all."

Gabriel nodded understanding before he began to walk away from the group.  Whistler spoke, confusion in his voice.  "You know, you could have just…"

Haruna spoke before Whistler had a chance to finish his statement.  "Yes, I could have.  But we're working on a budget, unlike Dante.  Every bit counts."  Whistler nodded, realizing that she was right.  No reason for any immature expenditure when Sunnydale was just a bus trip away.  "Now, come on, magic boy.  We've got work to do."

She gently laughed as she began to walk after Gabriel to exit the drive-in.  Whistler feinted insult as he followed closely behind.  "Hello.  Demon.  Are you not listening to me?"

"What's that?  I wasn't paying attention."

Fred looked on as Cordelia spooned another healthy helping of the green substance into her mouth.  She began to wonder which one of them had the penchant for unhealthy eating habits.  "How can you eat that stuff?"

Cordelia smiled at Fred, speaking between bites.  "C'mon, Fred.  It's Jell-O.  Everyone likes Jell-O."

"Not me.  There's something troublesome about a food that doesn't deform if you hit it with a hammer."

A small chuckle escaped from Cordelia's lips as she pushed the plastic container toward Fred.  "What's so scary about Jell-O?"

"I didn't say scary.  I said troublesome."

"You say potato, I say too much starch."

Fred meekly smiled as she looked down at the food tray sitting in front of her.  "Do you think this will be enough?  He'll probably have an appetite when he wakes up."

"Honey, maybe you should eat that.  I'm pretty sure the nurses won't let you bring that in for Gunn."

Fred's voice became passive, almost pleading, as she tried to voice her concern.  "But Charles will be hungry when he gets up.  The nurses will understand that, right?"

Cordelia smiled at her friend as her hand moved across the table, gently encircling Fred's.  She gave it a small squeeze as she spoke.  "I know you want to take care of Gunn, but that's the hospital's job.  You can take care of him when we get him home.  Okay?"

Fred sighed, realizing that Cordelia was right.  She knew that she wouldn't be able to bring anything edible for Gunn.  But, she had to do something.  She hated this feeling.  Of being helpless while the man that meant the world to her had his life in the hands of strangers.  "Okay."

"Good.  Now, you gonna try some of this Jell-O or what?"

Fred playfully wrinkled her nose as she shook her head.  "Nuh uh.  You'd have to pay me to eat that stuff."

"Fine.  Your loss."  With that, Cordelia spooned another helping into her mouth, Fred mouthing 'ewwww' towards her friend.  However, Fred's playful countenance quickly returned to one of seriousness.  Cordelia turned her body around in the seat, her eyes falling on Angel and Spike walking towards them.  As they neared the cafeteria table, Cordelia queried the two men.  "What is it?"

Angel answered while Spike shot Fred a subtle grin.  "He's awake."

An amalgamation of a smile and a frown graced Fred's face as she tried to comprehend Angel's words.  "He's awake?"

"That's right, pigeon.  What's say we go say hi?"

Fred quickly smiled at Spike as she rose from the bench, her mind no longer focused on the food on the red plastic tray.  "Let's go, guys."

Angel turned his gaze to Fred, who was now standing next to Spike's side.  "You two go ahead.  We'll catch up."  Fred didn't question Angel, simply because she was too anxious right at the moment.  All she wanted to do was to see Gunn once again.  Spike gave Angel a quick nod, Angel understanding his nonverbal sentiment.  It was probably best if Fred had someone with her when she spoke to the doctor.  Even Spike, as hard as that was to admit to himself.  Fred gently wrapped her arm about Spike's as they headed out of the cafeteria.

Angel turned his gaze toward Cordelia, who hadn't moved during the whole conversation.  Instead, she just looked at Angel, a troublesome look on her face.  "What's wrong, Angel?"

Angel sighed as he knelt next to Cordelia, their eyes now at the same level.  "It's bad, Cordy."

"But you just said he was awake."

"He is."  Angel hung his head slightly, Cordelia gently pulling his gaze back to hers by tilting his chin up.  She looked on in anticipation, Angel's tone solemn.  "The doctor says there's a good chance that Gunn might not be able to walk again."

The disbelief was now evident in Cordelia's voice, tears threatening to make their way to the surface.  "How?"

"Gunn has severe swelling in the cartilage between the fourth, fifth and six vertebrae of his spine."  Cordelia shook her head, not understanding what Angel was telling her.  Angel spoke the words he didn't want to.  "He's paralyzed from the waist down.  At least until the swelling goes down."

"But the doctor doesn't think that's going to happen?"

Angel nodded, his voice soft.  "Yeah."  Cordelia's eyes closed, tears now seeping between her eyelids.  Angel moved closer to her, gently taking her into his arms.  Cordelia's arms instinctively wrapped about his waist as her head lay on his shoulder.  Angel gently smoothed her hair, speaking once again.  "We should go.  Fred's probably gotten the news from the doctor by now."

"Okay."  Angel and Cordelia stood up almost in unison, Cordelia wiping away the tears from her eyes.  Then, without realizing it, she took his hand in hers.  "Let's go."  Angel nodded as they began to walk toward the double doors of the cafeteria.

_To be continued_


	6. Dark Corners

Title:  Dark Corners

Author:  Spike Speigel

E-mail:  spikespeigel26@yahoo.com

Rating:  R (Language, Violence, and Sexual Situations)

Classification:  Buffy/Spike, Angel/Cordelia

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me because I don't have the imagination to even touch Mr. Whedon's.

Spoilers:  Sequel to Falling into You.  Anything's fair game from season six of BtVS and season three of AtS.

Summary:  Where Angels Tread (VI of XIII)

Status:  Finished

Dawn didn't realize how late it had been.  She had told Willow and Tara that she'd be home in time for dinner.  But her study group had gone all out that evening.  Mainly because of the fact that the upcoming math test counted for twenty-five percent of her overall grade.  And she needed all the points she could get after her poor performance on her last test.  Who needed math anyway?  Seriously, why would anyone need to know the area under a curve?

There had been one bright spot during the whole evening.  Chris Conley had asked her if she was doing anything this weekend.  At first, she thought he was talking to the whole group, but when no one else responded to his question, Dawn realized that he was asking her out.  On a date, no less.

An actual date.  How would she break the news to Buffy?  After what happened last Halloween, there was a slim chance in hell that Buffy would let her go out alone with a member of the opposite sex.  Maybe if Buffy didn't come back from L.A. before the weekend, Willow and Tara would let her go out with Chris.  And maybe the Hellmouth would swallow her whole right about now.

Dawn sighed, hanging her head slightly at the thought of not being able to spend a night out with Chris.  He was so cute.  It was the dimples that did it.  When he smiled, they just stood out, making you melt inside.  Unfortunately for Dawn, she was so entrenched in thought of Chris' dimples, she never saw the guy standing in front of her.  The only reason she finally saw him was because she walked smack dab into him.

"Oh, I'm sorry.  I didn't see you there."  The young man, probably in his early twenties, just stood there and smiled, leaving Dawn to ask the obvious.  "What's so funny?"

The stranger finally spoke, joy lilting his voice.  "That you're about to die and you don't even know it."

Dawn began to cautiously step backwards, never taking her eyes off the young man that had caused the hairs to stand on the back of her neck.  "What are you talking about?"  Dawn thought she might have a chance to run if she needed to, but that thought quickly left her mind when she stepped into another body behind her.  She looked up, seeing another young man, much taller, much bigger than the one standing in front of her.  Dawn began to step away from the new individual, but his massive arms roughly encircled her, pulling her to his chest as he began to squeeze the air out of her lungs.

While Dawn began to gasp for air, the first man began to giggle as he spoke, his face morphing into a vampire.  "Fight all you want.  Makes the blood that much tastier.  All warm and fragrant.  Ain't that right, Munch?"

"That's right, Doug."  Munch, the one with the massive girth, joined in the laughter while Dawn continued to struggle in his grasp.  That was, until she heard Munch groan.  The next thing she knew, she was falling backward through a cloud of dust and ashes into the arms of a new individual.  She looked back quickly but couldn't see her savior.  That was because he had left her side and was quickly advancing on Doug, the vampire that no longer seemed like laughing.

"Hey, you just killed my right hand man!"

The stranger wasted no time, the stake flying into Doug's heart as he retorted.  "Doesn't look like you need the help anymore."  Doug looked on in disbelief as his body began to turn black, his final gaze falling on the man that had easily ended his life.  As Doug's body exploded into an ashen cloud, the stranger walked over to the remains to retrieve the stake that was once lodged in Doug's chest.

"Who are you?"  The stranger turned his attention to Dawn, she trying to comprehend what had just happened.  "Not that I'm complaining about you saving my life.  But you're not one of the local superheroes."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Dawn didn't mean to blush, but whatever Chris had, the stranger had in spades.  It was the eyes that did it.  Almost like he was looking into her soul.  She quickly composed herself, her hand quickly smoothing her hair.  "So, who do I have to thank for saving my life?"

The stranger walked casually to Dawn, the smile never leaving his lips.  "You can call me Connor."

Buffy didn't realize that the sun had already gone down.  The only reason she did was because Angel opened the lobby doors of the Hyperion, Spike and Cordelia following.  Angel walked over to Buffy who was now situated behind the front desk.

"Um, Buffy.  Why are you back there?"

Buffy smiled as she answered his question.  "Felt like the thing to do.  You got two calls while you were out."  Buffy handed over two yellow post its, each containing names and phone numbers.  "Seems like you guys keep busy here in L.A."

"You don't know the half of it."

Buffy looked past Angel, seeing Spike and Cordelia conversing in the background.  They seemed rather friendly.  "So, where's Fred?"  Her gaze remained on Spike as Angel answered her question.

"She's with Gunn."

"So, he's awake?"

"Yeah."  Angel would have gone into more detail, but he finally realized that Buffy wasn't paying any attention to him.  "Buffy?"

"Yeah, Angel?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah, why do you ask?"  What could he be talking about with her?

"Because your attention seems to be elsewhere."

"What are you talking…"  She never got a chance to finish her sentence.  Mainly because Spike and Cordelia had finally made their way to the front desk, Cordelia interrupting her.

"So, how's Lorne?"

Buffy looked over to Cordelia, Spike standing close to her.  "He's okay.  I changed his bandages but it seems like the pain is lessening.  We actually had a conversation.  Did you know that he wants to sing in Vegas?"

Angel smirked as Cordelia answered Buffy.  "That sounds about right.  He's the next Sinatra."

"You're kidding."

Angel replied this time.  "He's got the voice.  Now all he needs is the agent."  Buffy smiled at the thought of Lorne knocking them dead in Vegas.  "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm calling it a night.  It's been a long day."

Cordelia seconded the sentiment.  "Tell me about it.  Maybe tomorrow will be better.  I've had my fill of bad news today."  Buffy was about to ask what she meant, but she had already began walking toward the stairs.  "Good night, Buffy.  Spike."

"Good night, luv."

Angel began to follow Cordelia, but turned back to Spike.  "You know, there's this pub down the street.  We should go check it out tomorrow."

Spike chuckled softly at the thought.  Wasn't this the same person that tried to end his life mere days ago?  "Sounds like a plan."

Angel grinned at Spike before turning his attention to Buffy.  "You two behave now."

Buffy gave Angel a perplexed look as he began to walk away.  "Night, Angel."  As he made his way up the stairs, Buffy turned her gaze to Spike.  "What was that about?"

"What was what about?"

"You and Angel acting all chummy."

"Oh, that."  Spike leaned forward, his face now in front of Buffy's.  "Let's just say we worked out some of our problems and leave it at that."  Buffy nodded as Spike leaned in closer, his lips threatening to touch hers as he continued.  "You in the mood for a late supper?"

"Spike, we can't.  Not here."

Spike chuckled as he spoke.  "Well, I was talking about getting something to eat, but if you have other things in mind."

Buffy leaned in closer, the tip of her nose now pressed against the side of his.  "Another time, another place."  As her lips began to part, welcoming the kiss that was inevitable, the words from earlier floated into her head.

Are you sure it's love you're feeling for Spike?  Or is it something that you think might be love?  Like you did with me and Riley.

Buffy quickly pulled away from Spike, confusion now enveloping his being.  "What's wrong, luv?"

"Um, it's nothing."  She lied to him.  "I'm just tired.  Long day."

Spike nodded, showing his understanding.  "Well, guess supper'll have to wait."

Her voice was timid as she spoke.  "Yeah, guess so."

With that, she made her way to the stairway, Spike calling out to her.  "Night, pet."

She never looked back as she made her way up the steps.  "Good night, Spike."

"Come on, people!  Move it!"  Cordelia looked around the lobby, wondering how she had gotten back downstairs.  As far as she knew, she was sound asleep in her bed.  At least, she was supposed to be.  But things took a turn for the weird when Gunn walked past her, crossbow in hand.

"Gunn?"

"C'mon, Cordelia.  We've gotta go."

"No, wait.  I thought you were in the hospital?"

Fred stepped to Gunn's side, a small smile on her face.  "Why would my homie be in the ER?  He's tougher than that."

Gunn frowned as he looked over to his girlfriend.  "Fred, baby.  What have I told you about using slang?"

"That I can't pull it off?"

"That's right.  So why do you still try?"

Fred considered the question before answering.  "Because you're my homie."

Gunn sighed as the one person Cordelia thought she'd never see again moved to Gunn's opposite side.  "She's got you there, Charles."

Cordelia fumbled for the words, still trying to comprehend what was going on.  "Wesley?"

He turned to Cordelia, a slight grin on his face as he spoke.  "What is it, Cordelia?"

"You're not supposed to be here."

Wesley's tone was now one of inquisitiveness, the statement obviously foreign to him.  "What are you talking about?  I've always been here."

Gunn came to his defense.  "That's right, Cordy.  He's the brains of the outfit."

Of course, Fred took exception to this.  "Hey, I thought I was the brainy one?"

Gunn quickly recovered before planting a chaste kiss on her lips.  "You're the sexy one."

"Oh, in that case."  She answered with a kiss of her own.

Cordelia spoke once again, confusion beginning to encompass her.  "This isn't right."  She pointed to Gunn as she spoke.  "You're supposed to be in the hospital…"  Her finger moved from Gunn to Wesley.  "…and you're not supposed to even be here."

Wesley chuckled slightly, beginning to think that Cordelia had completely lost her mind.  "And why would you say that?"

"Because you stole Angel's son."  The group looked at one another, not following Cordelia's train of thought.  "Connor?"

The voice came from behind her.  "Even if I did have a son, Wes wouldn't do something that despicable.  Now would you?"

Cordelia turned to the stairs, Angel descending them at a hurried pace.  As he joined the group, Wesley answered his question.  "That's right.  But enough of this dallying around.  We've got to go."

Cordelia could hear the frustration now in her voice as she tried to gain some semblance of reason from her friends' behavior.  "Go where?"

Angel grinned slightly as his gaze met Cordelia's.  "Well, that's what you're here for.  You tell us who needs help, and we go help them."

Cordelia frowned upon hearing his words.  "But, I don't see anything right now."  Then the unexpected happened.  They began to laugh at her.  "What…what's so funny?"

Gunn answered, discontent in his voice.  "I told you she was worthless.  Even when she has those visions, they're so damn vague we have to do all the footwork."

Fred seconded the sentiment.  "Yeah.  At least I've got the sexiness factor going for me."

"Damn straight, baby."

As Fred and Gunn began to make their way to the lobby doors, Wesley spoke.  "You're such a disappointment, Cordelia.  The simplest thing we ask of you, and you can't even do that."

Cordelia tried to defend herself, but before she could, Wesley had already turned his back to her as he joined Fred and Gunn at the top of the steps near the lobby doors.  She frantically turned to Angel, knowing in her heart that he'd defend her.  "I'm not useless.  Tell them, Angel."

"But that'd be a lie."

Cordelia felt the air catch in her lungs, as though she had just been kicked in the gut.  She desperately gasped for air, her world crumbling around her.  "What are you saying, Angel?"

The gentle smile never left his face as he looked at her.  "Let's face facts, Cordy.  You're not needed here.  You never were."  He turned his back to her, beginning to walk to his friends at the top of the stairs.  "You'll be gone by the time we get back, won't you?"

Cordelia couldn't stop the tears as she desperately called out to the man that had supposedly changed her life for the better.  "Angel!"  He kept on walking.  "Angel!?!"  And then he was gone.  All of them.  The lobby doors remained open, the night air seeping into the lobby like a rolling fog.  Cordelia fell to her knees, the sobs overcoming her.  "Angel?"

All the while, she never noticed the individual standing in the shadows.  "Intriguing.  Let's see what the vampire's up to."

Angel sat in the sterile hospital room, Gunn laying across from him.  Lifeless.  Time of death was seven thirty-two in the evening.  About the time they did their best work.  Once the sun went down.

Seven thirty-two.  It was so precise.  At seven thirty-two, he lost another soldier.  No, he lost another friend.  Just like… "Doyle."

His first real friend in L.A.  This dirty, diseased city, and Doyle was the first decent thing he found.  The Powers were kind for introducing him to Doyle.  But, their pettiness outweighed their kindness.  That much was evident as Doyle jumped into the cage, sacrificing his life for people that didn't even know who he was.  Who, frankly, didn't give a damn about anyone but themselves.

And now he had lost another friend.  This time, he had no idea who was responsible.  He didn't have a face to place with the rage building up in him.  A place to vent.  A place to become the animal that he really was.

"You really should stop lying to yourself."

Angel's eyes fell on Gunn as he sat up in the bed, his forehead damp with moisture.  "Gunn?"

"Yeah, man."  Gunn chuckled as his legs swung to the side of the bed, his toes flexing against the cold, hard tile beneath the pads of his feet.  "You know that's a load of bull.  We all knew what we were getting into when we signed up with you."  Gunn got up from the bed.  As he did so, he lost his balance, his hands gripping the side of the bed to keep him upright.  Angel came to his aid, helping him to his feet.  "Even where we might end up."

Angel looked at him, curiosity permeating every fiber of his being.  "Where you might…?"

Gunn stopped Angel from finishing the words.  "C'mon.  Let's take a walk.  Find out what's really eating at you."  Before Angel could question his friend who a moment ago was very much dead, Gunn opened the door of the ICU room, bright light pouring into the room.  "The only way you'll find out is if you take that first step."

Angel looked at his friend quizzically, noticing that the moisture was now congregating about not only Gunn's forehead, but the scalp as well.  Was it hot in here?  It was kind of hard for someone like Angel to judge since any semblance of warm bloodedness vanished once he became a vampire.  However, if Gunn had something to show him, who was he to deny his friend's request.  With that thought in his mind, Angel stepped through the door.  However, instead of emerging in the hallway of the hospital, they were now in… "The Hyperion?"  Angel turned his gaze back to Gunn, realizing that his companion was acting as though this was completely normal.  "Why are we back here?"

"Look."

Angel turned his gaze from his friend, his eyes moving across the room until they reached what Gunn wanted him to see.  A couple lay in the bed, the man on top of the woman, each caught up in the rapture that was copulation.  Even though the room was dark, Angel could clearly see who the two people were.  The voice was a dead giveaway.  "Oh, Spike."

"Buffy.  God, I love you so much.  So much."

The bodies moved rhythmically under the satin sheets, each never taking their eyes off the other.  They were in the moment.  To them, that was their world.  Nothing else mattered.

Angel looked back to Gunn, curiosity turning into utter confusion.  "Why are you showing me this?"

"Come on.  You know that you want to kill them.  She was your true love, man.  And that whelp is having his way with your woman."

Whelp?  Since when did Gunn use words like whelp?  "She was my true love.  But we've both moved on.  Whatever she wants to do with her life is her decision.  I've no say in the matter."

"Then, how about this?"  Angel wondered what Gunn was getting at this time, but before he could ask, something in the room changed.  While Spike's groans remained, Buffy's began to sound odd, as though she were changing the cadence of her voice.  Suddenly, Angel recognized the voice that had now covered Buffy's.  It was undeniable.

"Cordy?"

His eyes focused on the couple in the bed, realizing that the person underneath Spike was not Buffy.  The woman was slightly taller, her hair shorter.  And the skin color was a dead giveaway.  He looked on as Cordelia continued to moan under Spike's ministrations.  He could feel that feeling coming back.  The same feeling he felt earlier in the hospital room.

"Hasn't changed, has she?  She sees something better and pounces on it."

Angel finally began to put the pieces together.  "You're doing this, aren't you?"

Gunn chuckled, a deep rich sound emanating from his chest.  And his face continued to perspire.  He was practically drenched.  "Let's face facts.  This is what you really want?  It's what you've wanted for a long time."

"You have now idea what I want."

"Is that a fact?"

Before Angel could answer his friend's question, the sounds changed once again.  While Cordelia's moans remained constant, Spike's faded, now replaced by a sound very close to home.  It was his voice intermingled with Cordelia's sighs of pleasure.

Angel's gaze fell once again to the bed, his mouth slightly agape at the sight now in front of him.  It was something he'd only seen in dreams.  There he was, making love to the woman that had occupied a large portion of his heart.  And she was welcoming it in kind.  He felt voyeuristic, watching himself and Cordelia, their bodies intertwined.  Not knowing where he ended and she began.

He could feel the smile growing on his face.  It wasn't a sheepish grin.  It was a genuine smile.  Something reserved for seeing a friend you hadn't seen in years.  Something used during the miracle of childbirth.  Something reserved for that one moment.  When you realized that you're with the person that you're meant to be with.  Your soulmate.

But, as quickly as the smile emerged on Angel's face, it vanished upon what he saw next.  Angel, the other Angel, groaned loudly, Cordelia following his guttural sound.  Then silence.  But Angel knew what would come next.  If that was the one moment of true happiness.  There was no doubt of what was to come.  Angel wanted to turn his gaze away, but like a car wreck on your way to work, you had that morbid curiosity gnawing at the back of your mind.

Hoping against hope that he was wrong, that hope was quickly dashed as Angel saw his face morph, Cordelia's expression one of surprise and fear.  "Angel?"

He never answered her.  Instead, his hands held her arms against the bed, his fangs plunging into her throat.  Angel tried to turn away, but the images being formed in front of him proved too magnetic, too compelling.  He could hear Cordelia's gurgled screams as his other self continued to drink from her.  But, the slurping sounds turned into gnawing.  Angel didn't want to believe what he was hearing, but based on Cordelia's gurgled screams ceasing, Angel could come to one conclusion.  He was feeding on flesh as well as blood.

Angel took a step toward the bed, but stopped in his tracks as his other self turned to him, blood and skin matted about his lips.  "You know you want this.  It's the only time you feel alive."

Angel looked at himself, his eyes moving to the now lifeless Cordelia still underneath his other self.  "You're wrong."

"Yeah?  Then how do you explain this?"

"Explain…"  He didn't know what had happened, but instead of looking at himself and Cordelia, he was all of a sudden looking a lonesome Gunn.  Angel could feel the warmth beneath him as well as on his lips.  Trepidation in his heart, Angel brought his hand to his lips, then held it out.  Blood.  It was blood.

He looked down and that's when he realized.  He was now on top of Cordelia, blood pouring through the gaping wound that he had put there.  No, the other.  Not him.  He would never hurt Cordelia.  Never.

"You're such a liar."  Angel jerked back slightly upon hearing the words escape Cordelia's lips.  Her eyes flew open, looking at him accusingly.  "You won't be happy until you kill us all.  Until you get rid of your conscience.  Your soul."

Angel noticed the movement from the corner of his eye, turning his gaze back to Gunn.  He approached the bed slowly, Angel still trying to comprehend what was happening.  "Help me, Gunn."

Gunn stepped out of the shadows, the sight leaving Angel breathless.  He was now covered in blood, the reddish black substance pouring profusely from his eyes, his nose, his very pores.  Gunn chuckled as Angel remained atop Cordelia.  "What's wrong, Angel?  Can't handle the truth?"

In his life, Angel had never encountered a situation in which he was truly afraid.  That all changed as his screams of denial reverberated through the bedroom, the realization that his friends might be right.  He never noticed as Gunn slowly stepped back into the shadows.

As he made his way out of the room, Angel's screams continuing unabated, his shape began to change, shifting effortlessly into his true guise.  "How depressing.  I thought his demons would be more…original."  The figure smiled slightly as he made his way down the hall, Angel's screams filling the night.

Buffy sat on the couch in her living room, flipping idly through the numerous photo albums that needed a new home.  Now that Willow was home, the bedroom that was formerly used as a storage space would eventually become Willow's new room.  While Tara and Willow were acting amiably toward one another, they had agreed that it would better in the long run if they allowed things to come naturally.

That was the reason why Buffy was taking a nostalgic stroll, the pictures triggering the memories of better times.  Times when things were simpler.  Back when her mother was still the adult and she the child.

She turned the page, Riley's face smiling back at her.  Riley.  He was smiling because he had his hands about her waist, she leaning back into his embrace.  It was a typical Sunnydale afternoon as they stood on the beach.  Everyone was there that day.  The whole gang.  Buffy gently smiled, remembering what came after Xander took that photo of the couple.  Willow had sneaked up behind Riley and mischievously pulled his swimming trunks to his ankles.

How Riley had blushed as he tried to maintain his composure.  Buffy didn't mean to laugh, but it was funny seeing Mr. Military caught off guard.  Riley had sworn revenge on Xander and Willow, but he was just talking the talk.  Inside, he was probably thinking how on earth did Willow get the jump on him.

But Buffy made him forget all about the incident that night.  They made love twice that night.  Before she took off to patrol in the cemetery.  Before she ran into Dracula.  Before the truth about her nature came out into open view.  Before Riley left her.

They all left her in the end.  They all found something wrong with her.  She wasn't _normal_ enough for a relationship.  It all came with the territory.  Just another aspect of being a Slayer.

"Yeah?  That argument doesn't really hold up with me, does it?"

Buffy looked up from the photo album, her eyes falling onto Angel.  He stood in front of her, his hands in his jacket pockets and a frown on his face.  "Angel?  When did you…"

Angel interrupted her train of thought, reiterating the question.  "I wasn't really the model of normality.  So, tell me."  He moved to the couch, sitting next to her.  "Why didn't we work?"

Buffy placed the photo album to the wayside, turning her body to Angel's.  "You left me.  After graduation.  Remember?"

Angel smiled gently as he answered her question.  "I remember.  But I didn't have much of a choice.  If I stayed, you would have realized that we could have never worked.  You would have kept on aging while I remained like I am now.  What kind of life would that be?"  Buffy nodded slightly, agreeing with his reasoning.  "I left because I loved you.  You can see that, right?"

Buffy laughed bitterly as she spoke.  "How could I see that?  You fled the scene of the crime before I had a chance to say goodbye.  You couldn't at least given me the choice?  Of whether or not we had a chance?"

Angel leaned in closer to Buffy, his smile disappearing as a solemn look replaced it.  "Okay.  So, tell me.  Did we have a chance?"  Buffy jerked away from Angel, almost as a reflex.  "I loved you.  Did you love me?"

Buffy's voice lost her caustic tone, returning to a subtler one.  "You know the answer."

"Just humor me then."  He never took his eyes away from hers.  "Did you love me?"

Buffy opened her mouth slightly, about to answer his question.  But, her mouth quickly closed, the answer escaping her.

"That's not fair, Angel."  Buffy's eyes moved from Angel to the new voice.  New wasn't exactly correct.  She knew whom that voice belonged to.  "She was only a child when she met you.  She didn't know what love really meant back then."

Buffy rose from the couch, walking toward the new visitor.  "Riley?"

"Hey, Buffy.  How've you been?"

"Riley.  I haven't see you in months and the only thing you have to say for yourself is 'how've you been'?"

Riley chuckled as he looked over Buffy's shoulder toward Angel.  "She's right.  Bastard I've been, the only thing I can think of is her well-being."

Angel shrugged his shoulders as he responded.  "Wouldn't worry too much about it.  This one has problems with her emotions.  Of course it'd be difficult for her to recognize kindness."

Buffy looked over her shoulder, not believing what she was hearing.  "I don't have emotional problems.  Just because you two left me doesn't make me the bad guy."

The cheerfulness left Riley's voice, seriousness now replacing it.  "Alright.  So, why do you think I left you?  Since you're the expert here."

Her answer came almost immediately.  "Because you wanted something I couldn't give you.  You wanted normal."

Angel gently chuckled at Buffy's response.  But Riley's response wasn't that flippant.  Instead, he moved closer to Buffy, his gaze intent.  "You thought I wanted normal?  I was working for a branch of the military policing demon activity.  And you thought I wanted normal?"

Buffy bowed her head slightly, her voice a whisper now.  "Then what did you want?"

His voice never wavered.  "I wanted you to love me."

"You what?"

Riley tilted his head slightly so he could see Buffy's face better.  "I gave you everything I had.  My heart.  My soul.  But you never gave me the same."

Buffy's gaze met Riley's once again, the shock evident.  "How can you say that?  You know how I felt."

"Fine.  Prove me wrong."  He never backed down from her fiery gaze.  "Tell me that you loved me."

Once again, Buffy tried to say those three words, but found that they wouldn't come out.  No matter how hard she tried, they seemed to dry up in her throat.  As though the effort would cause her bodily harm.  She took a deep breath, trying once again.  Fortunately, she didn't get the chance.

"That's enough, mate.  Can't you see she's not in the mood for this?"

Buffy turned to the living room entrance, a smile gracing her face.  "Spike, thank God.  I don't know what's going on but Angel and Riley have been asking me the strangest things."

"Oh, I don't know about that."  Spike walked into the living room as Angel stood up, moving to Riley's side.  "I think they've got valid points."

Buffy's smile faded as a frown took its place.  "Don't tell me you're siding with them."

Spike moved closer to Buffy, his hand now encircling hers.  "I didn't say that, pet."  Buffy began to smile, but Spike's words stopped her from continuing.  "But it's curious.  I've proved time and time again that I love you.  Died for you, even."

Buffy gently squeezed his hand, a gentle smile emerging on her face. "I know you did, honey.  And I know that you love me."

"That's right.  I'll love you.  Till the end of the world."  Angel and Riley maintained their distance, both knowing what was coming.  "So, I've got to ask.  Do you love me?"

Buffy pulled her hand away from Spike, the question burning like acid.  She looked at him, at his gentle face, and tried to answer.  But, once again, she couldn't bring herself to say the words.  So, she stood there in front of the man that loved her unconditionally and did the only thing she could.  She closed her eyes as the tears came.

Spike stood in the lobby of the Hyperion, looking on as Buffy made her way up the stairs to the numerous bedrooms.  He stood there puzzled, wondering about Buffy's prior behavior.  Everything had seemed normal.  She was even playful before she pulled away.  So, what was it?  Was it something he said?

"Of course it was."

Spike's gaze moved from the stairs, his eyes falling onto Angel emerging from the lower hallway.  "Angel.  Thought you went to bed."

"Yeah.  So did I.  Too wired."

Spike nodded agreement.  Things were definitely too tense to even fathom sleep.  "So, what did you mean by your previous comment?"  Angel's brow furrowed, indicating that he wasn't sure what Spike was talking about.  "You said that it was something I said."

Angel nodded, a grin now on his face.  "Oh, you know Buffy.  One moment, everything's smooth sailing.  The next, she's looking for the nearest exit.  So, it's just easier to say it's your fault.  Because it's never hers."

Spike awkwardly chuckled, not believing his ears.  "Didn't know you felt that way about her."

"Oh, yeah.  Regular ice queen that one.  Why do you think I'm trying to get Cordelia's attention?  At least she knows how to handle her emotions.  She's honest, you know what I mean?"

"You don't think Buffy's honest?"

"What do you think?"

"I trust her with my life."

Angel gently laughed as he spoke.  "I used to be like you.  Letting my love for her blind me.  But you've got to face facts.  There's going to come a time where she just gets tired of you."  Spike turned his gaze away from Angel as he continued.  "Trust me.  I know what I'm talking about.  Don't make the same mistake I did.  Don't let her hurt you like she has the others before you."  Spike nodded, as though he was beginning to see the validity of Angel's words.  "So, you think I'm off base?"

Spike stepped closer to Angel, a look of curiosity on his face.  "Actually, I'm starting to think that the real Angel wouldn't be chatting it up with me right about now.  Truth be told, I'm pretty sure the real Angel would have probably stuck to his word and left this alone until tomorrow."  Angel's grin began to fade as Spike continued.  "So, the real question is, who the hell are you?"

Angel sighed as he looked at Spike, the room suddenly quiet.  The silence enveloped the lobby, both men looking at each other intently.  Finally, Angel broke the silence.  "I knew there was something about you.  I can smell it on you."

"What are you blathering about?"

Before Spike knew what was happening, Angel's face faded away.  In its place was a stranger's.  Even though the lobby was insufficiently lit, Spike could see that the man's hair shimmered in the artificial light, the silvery strands about his brow accentuating the rugged features of the stranger's face.  As though he lived through numerous lifetimes.  "In all the times I've done this, only a special few have been able to see through my façade."  Angel's clothes fell away, the stranger now draped in a simple woolen overthrow.  Almost akin to a poncho.  "And those special few always get my undivided attention."

Spike knew that he should probably be intimidated by the magic show happening in front of him, but his curiosity got the better of him.  "So, why visit my dream?  I'm assuming this is a dream, correct?"  The stranger nodded, indicating Spike's initial observation to be accurate.  "What makes me so special?"

"Because the Key chose you."

Before, the stranger merely held Spike's curiosity.  Now, he was treading on dangerously familiar territory.  "What do you know about Dawn?"

"I know that she cares for you deeply.  So much so, that she greedily stole you away from your position."

The confusion was evident in Spike's tone as he spoke.  "I'm not following."

The stranger tilted his head slightly, as if he were measuring up the man standing in front of him.  "That's the only thing that I haven't been able to figure out.  Why would someone with your past be given such a revered position?  And why would something as holy as the Key care so much as to give you a new genesis?"

"So, you know what I am now?"

"I do."

Spike moved closer to the individual, his fear falling to the wayside, hope now taking its place.  "Please, tell me.  What did I come back as?"

"You still haven't figured it out?  All the clues are in front of you."

"Why don't you spell it out for me?  I'm a little slow."

The stranger smiled at Spike's attempt at levity.  "Very well.  If you must know, you…"  Spike waited anxiously for the words to come, but unfortunately, they never did.  "I'm sorry.  But I have to leave.  It appears that my young ward already has the Key in his possession.  Such a gifted young man."  The pride in his voice was subtle, but it was there.

However, Spike didn't pick up on it as the news finally sunk in.  "You have Dawn?"

"I do."

The fear was starting to reemerge.  "Why would you do that?  She's just an innocent girl."

"She's not a girl.  She's an object."  The stranger's smile waned as he continued.  "And I have need of her if I'm to complete the next step of my plan."

That's when it clicked.  "You're the one that Tweedy saw, aren't you?  You're the bastard that killed him."

Dante nodded, somewhat impressed that Spike had put the pieces together.  "Congratulations.  But you had a little help from Mr. Tweedy.  Yes?"

Spike nodded.  "I can see things.  Things he put in my head."  Spike finally asked the obvious question.  "Wait, if I'm seeing what he saw, then why aren't you trying to kill me?"

"Make no mistake.  Your time will come.  As will everyone else on this ball of refuse."  With that, Dante walked past Spike and toward the lobby doors.

"Wait!  We're not done here, you son of a bitch.  You tell me where you've taken the Niblet or I swear to God I'm going to pull your colon through your sodding mouth."

Dante never turned back.  Instead, as he reached the lobby doors, he casually pulled them open, the harsh blue light blinding Spike.  "We'll meet again.  You have my word on it."

Buffy awoke upon hearing the loud banging against her door.  Her eyes blinked repeatedly, trying to get the sleep out.  However, she realized that it wasn't sleep that was blurring her vision.  It was the tears.  She quickly wiped her hand across her eyes as she called out.  "Who is it?"

"Luv, it's me.  Open up."

Buffy hesitated for a moment before getting out of the bed.  As she opened the door, she thought she'd see the Spike that was in her dream.  A gentle, caring one.  Instead, upon opening the door, all she saw on his countenance was worry and fear.  "Spike?"

"You need to call home.  Now."

"Spike, what is this about?"

She could hear the weariness in his voice as he spoke.  "Dawn's gone."

"What?  How do you know that?"

Spike sighed, frustration beginning to seep into his tone.  "Buffy, you need to trust me here.  I'll answer your questions later."  Buffy could see that he was deathly serious.  "Please, just call.  If even to prove I'm wrong."

Buffy nodded, a small smile on her face as she walked back into the room.  She picked up her jacket, her hand searching the pocket for her cell phone.  However, as soon as she found it, it began to chime.  Buffy pressed the signal button, bringing the phone to her ear.  "Hello?"

"Buffy, you need to come home."

"Willow?"  Her eyes met with Spike's, fear beginning to overcome her.  Fear that Spike was right.  "What's happened?"

Willow didn't hesitate as she delivered the news.  "Dawn didn't come home from school.  Tara and I have searched everywhere.  Tara even cast a location spell.  But we can't find her."

"Okay, Will.  Spike and I will be there as soon as we can."

The sorrow was now evident in Willow's voice.  "God, I'm so sorry.  I didn't mean to lose her.  I didn't mean…"

Buffy comforted her friend even though she felt as though she were the one that needed solace at the moment.  "Don't worry, Willow.  We'll find her.  Okay?"

Willow answered softly.  "Okay."

"Okay.  We'll be there as soon as we can."

With that, Buffy pressed the end key.  Spike nodded as he began to walk out of the room.  "I'll get the car.  Get your stuff."  Buffy nodded as Spike vanished from her view.  While Buffy was genuinely concerned for her sister, she was even more concerned about Spike's foreknowledge.

Connor didn't mean to stare at the young woman bound to the chair, but there was something about her.  Sure, she was pretty.  But that wasn't it.  There was something else.  As though she was hiding a secret.

"What are you looking at?"  Dawn struggled against the ropes now digging into her wrists and ankles.  "It's bad enough that you kidnapped me, but do you have to keep staring at me like that?"

"Sorry."  Connor averted his eyes, his thoughts moving back to Dante.  Why would he possibly need an innocent woman such as this?  No matter how he looked at it, it didn't make sense.

Dawn could see the worry in her abductor's face.  "Why did you do this?  You don't seem like the kind of person that would do something like this."

"Yeah?  What makes you say that?"

Dawn's voice was soft as she answered him.  "You have an honest face.  Gentle, even."

Connor softly chuckled under his breath as he spoke.  "How can you say that?  You don't even know me."

"I can see it in your eyes.  You're not a violent person.  So, why don't you just let me go and we'll just pretend like none of this ever happened."

She could see in his eyes that he was debating whether or not to let her go.  However, Connor never got a chance to act on his thoughts as a bright glow began to grow in the center of the room.  Dawn and Connor both averted their eyes to the harsh light, Connor placing his arm over his eyes while Dawn turned away as best she could.

Fortunately, as quickly as the light appeared, it vanished with the same quickness.  Then came the voice.  "You've done well, Connor."

Connor would have originally accepted his praise in high regard.  However, Connor found himself questioning Dante's actions for the first time.  "Why do you need her?"

"Ever to the point."  Connor didn't respond.  "Very well.  I'll show you why I needed her."  Dante made his way over to Dawn, she now struggling to move away from the silver haired stranger.  "Don't worry, child.  I won't kill you.  But, this will hurt.  That I can't prevent."

Dawn's voice wavered as she spoke.  "Please, just let me go.  I won't tell my sister what you did.  Please."

Dante knelt down beside Dawn, undoing the knots that Connor had fastened.  "You can tell your sister if you'd like.  But a Slayer is the least of my worries."

"You know Buffy?"

"Yes, child.  There are things I know that even you aren't privy to."  Dawn began to relax, the stranger's soothing voice calming her nerves.  "Now, you'll want to brace yourself."  Before Dawn could register what was happening, Dante placed his hand on her forehead, an unimaginable amount of pain coursing through her body.  She began to spasm in the chair as Dante braced her as much as he could without breaking her bones in the process.

Connor began to move toward the two individuals, about to stop Dante from hurting the young woman.  However, the energy emanating from their position whipped across the room, knocking Connor against the nearby wall.  The energy continued to build about Dante and Dawn until it shot from their location into the air.

The energy began to congregate just below the ceiling of the rundown apartment, creating a spherical mass.  Even though the energy discharge was nearly deafening, Connor could hear Dawn's screams of pain as Dante continued whatever he was currently doing to her.  Connor's gaze fell skyward, his eyes trying to focus on the large ball of energy that seemed like it could increase in size for eternity.

That wasn't the case as the sphere began to change colors.  It flashed from blue to red to a mixture of gold and silver.  Then it happened.  Connor thought it was just the light playing tricks on him.  But it moved.  It was unmistakable.  It was a leg.  Then another.  Before he knew it, an arm joined the congregation.  Finally, with one loud thunderclap, the sphere dispersed followed immediately by a nude body falling to the apartment floor.

Connor picked himself up to his feet as Dante moved away from a now unconscious Dawn.  Dante moved cautiously toward the new visitor, not noticing Connor as he moved to Dawn' side.  She still had a pulse.  That was good.  But it looked like she was hurting.  That much was evident judging by the muscle spasms coursing through her body.

Dante stood over the figure, a smile on his face.  Things were going according to plan.  "You can get up.  We're all friends here."

The figure finally spoke as she struggled to her feet.  "Good.  Then you won't mind when I rip your head off.  What the hell gave you the right to pull me out of my dimension?!?"

Dante slightly chuckled as he spoke.  "Now, Glory.  Is that any way to talk to your new best friend?"

_To be continued_


	7. Once Upon a Time

Title:  Once Upon a Time

Author:  Spike Speigel

E-mail:  spikespeigel26@yahoo.com

Rating:  R (Language, Violence and Sexual Situations)

Classification:  Buffy/Spike, Angel/Cordelia

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me because I don't have the imagination to even touch Mr. Whedon's.

Spoilers:  Sequel to Falling into You.  Anything's fair game from season six of BtVS and season three of AtS.

Summary:  Where Angels Tread (VII of XIII)

Status:  Finished

Cordelia groggily made her way down the steps to the lobby, trying to muster enough lucidity for her requisite trip to the kitchen to brew up that bitter yet aromatic morning cup of coffee.  She didn't much care for the taste, but after the dreams she had the previous night, she would rather be awake right now.  Anything instead of facing those dreams again.  However, she noticed that someone was already in the lobby.  Someone she wasn't ready to confront after the turmoil she had faced in her dreams the previous night.

"Hey, Angel."

He never looked up from the slip of paper in his hands, his brow furrowed as though the words were causing him physical pain.  Cordelia awkwardly made her way to his side, half expecting him to conceal the note's contents from her because he thought she wasn't good enough to be in the loop in Angel Investigations.  However, he never moved.  Instead, he brought the note down to chest level so Cordelia could see what he was reading.  As her eyes gazed across the words, Spike's voice filling her mind as she read the words he left.

_Sorry for the nightly exit, mate.  But Buffy and I are needed back in Sunnydale.  Borrowed your car.  I'll get it back to you once everything's situated.  Still have to have that pint, yeah?_

Spike 

Cordelia looked up to Angel, immediately recognizing the look on his face.  She spoke, hoping to assuage his fears.  "If they needed our help, they would have asked."

Angel nodded slightly while he spoke.  "Yeah, I know you're right, Cordy.  But it's not like Buffy to just leave without a goodbye.  This must be serious."

"Angel, I know that you want to help them.  But we have stuff that needs tending to here."  Angel sighed, a hint of frustration in his voice, as Cordelia gently squeezed his forearm.  "We've still got Jack Tweedy's last words to look into.  We've got to verify whether or not he was right about Spike bringing about Armageddon."

"You're right."  Angel turned his gaze from the frantically scrawled note Spike had left toward Cordelia.  "Doesn't mean that I like it, though."

Cordelia gently smiled at Angel, realizing that her fears from the previous night were unfounded.  The look they shared proved that.  She could feel the warmth and respect in his eyes as her arm gently wrapped about his.  "Come on.  I'll heat you up a nice cup of pig's blood."  Angel softly chuckled as Cordelia began to guide him toward the kitchen.  "What's so funny?"

"It's nothing."

"Angel?"  She playfully nudged his ribcage with her elbow, Angel relenting to her whims.

"I'm still not used to this."  Cordelia looked up at him, confusion enveloping her countenance.  "You being okay with me being a vampire."

"I've been here for four years now and you think I'd still have problems with that?  Trust me, honey, if there's anything that still bothers me, it's not the blood."  Angel looked at her in curiosity as she continued.  "If anything, it's the fact you haven't introduced any color to your wardrobe in those years that I find truly disturbing."

They both shared a small laugh as they walked through the doorway leading to the kitchen.

"Now, Glory?  Is that anyway to treat your new best friend?"

Connor remained at Dawn's side, his hands now clasped onto her upper arms, trying to alleviate the spasms that continued to course through her body.  However, his eyes remained locked at the scene playing out in front of him.  A nude woman had literally fallen from the sky.  Well, a hole in the sky, in any case.  And now, said nude woman was about to show Dante what for.  Her voice was confirmation of her current disposition.

That was, until she heard Dante's question again.  Instead of marching purposefully toward Dante, rage bubbling in her eyes, she simply paused and eyed the person standing in front of her.  Needless to say, the lack of clothing wasn't an issue.

"Wait.  I know that voice."  She hesitated before stepping forward, her movement akin to walking on broken glass.  "Let me see your face."

"If you insist, Glory."  Dante casually moved forward, the light pouring into the room now bathing over his visage as well.  "Or do you prefer Glorificus?  Bother, my mind does seem to be having trouble putting all the pieces back together.  But then, considering where I've been the past few years, it's a small miracle I'm even competent, let alone in charge of my faculties.  Wouldn't you agree?"

The response wasn't what Connor had expected.  The hate and anger immediately left Glory's face, replaced by something new.  Connor didn't know if he was right, but he could have sworn that the woman's hands were trembling.  But it wasn't cold in the room.  Then again, she was naked.  And the room was a tad on the drafty side.

"You son of a bitch.  How did you get out?  After what you did, you were supposed to be contained…"

"Until the universe ended.  And then some."  Dante stepped toward the naked woman.  However, the distance between the two remained the same when Glory took a step back.  Connor finally realized what had taken residence of Glory's emotions.  It was fear.  "Come now, Glory.  Why do you retreat into the shadows?"

"You know damn well why.  The things you did.  And for what?  She ended up staying with us and you were banished for all eternity."

"Be careful where your tongue takes you."  Glory's words came out jumbled as she began to look for an apology, the right one not coming.  Maybe it did, but the other apologies amalgamated with it just made her speech incoherent.  Dante could see her discomfort was growing with every waning moment, so he intervened before the situation got any worse.  "Glory, I said I wouldn't hurt you and my word is bond."

Glory finally composed herself.  "Why did you bring me back to this plane of existence?  What could you possibly need me for, what with your abilities?"

Dante's answer was concise.  "The Slayer."

"Oh, God.  Not that bitch again."  Dante looked on at Glory, curiosity gracing his face.  "That tramp killed my Benji!"  Dante nodded slightly, as though he knew what the hell Glory was talking about.  "Then again, Benji's death did return me to my dimension.  You know, if I hadn't been dependent on cerebral energy from these pitiful creatures, I probably would have figured that out and not even have to bother with the Slayer and the Key."

"You mean that Key?"

Glory followed Dante's gaze until hers fell upon Connor, still kneeling next to an unconscious Dawn, her spasms beginning to subside.  "Oh, what the hell?!?  What is she doing here?"

"She brought you back."  Glory quickly turned her gaze back to Dante, the fear now being replaced by inquisitiveness.  "She was the only one able to cut through dimensions to get you here.  A shame she doesn't know the amount of power she wields."

"Unlike you, right?"

Dante chuckled slightly.  "You still won't forgive me?  I had my reasons…"

"For what?  Slaughtering most of Hell?  If I didn't swallow my pride and form an allegiance with the other Hellgods, God knows how many of us you would have gone through just to get to your whor…"

Before the word had a chance to hit the air, Dante's hand was clutched tightly about Glory's throat, squeezing.  As his words came, Glory could have sworn that the room had grown colder.  

"This is your final warning, Glorificus.  Speak ill of her again and I'll kill you without a second thought.  You know I can.  You're nothing to me.  People fear going to Hell when they don't know the truth.  There are worse monsters than you waiting for their souls.  Worse than they can imagine.  You know what I'm capable of.  He knows what I'm capable of.  That's why I was banished.  And he's only banished one other person."  

With that, his hand was gone from her throat just as quickly as it had been there.  Glory immediately gasped for air, her mouth moving almost like a fish in water.  As her breathing became rhythmic once again, she inwardly cursed her frailties being on this plane of existence.  "So what now?  You smack me around whenever I mention her?"

"She has a name."

Glory decided to gauge the level of anger emanating within Dante, knowing that her next word might just be the death of her.  After all, death was universal.  Even to a god.  "Haruna."

"I see you remember her name."

"How could I forget her?  She had her own corner of Hell.  No one would ever touch her after what you did.  It took us years to get the fires going again."  Dante smiled at the memory as Glory continued.  "So, why do you need me to deal with the Slayer?  Just find her and snap her scrawny neck."

"I can't do that without giving my whereabouts away.  You honestly don't think I'm the only one that came back, do you?"

"What are you talking about?"

Dante began to speak, but not to Glory.  Instead, it sounded like he was reading from an instruction booklet.  "If there is an imbalance in the boundaries, it is the duty of the right hand to insure that balance is restored."  Dante looked over to Connor, who was still trying to process exactly what was transpiring in front of him.  "Connor, would you be so good as to take Ms. Summers into the next room?"

Connor was about to argue, but thought better of it.  "Yes, sir.  I'll just get some water for the girl."

"Fine.  Fine.  You're a good man, Connor."  With that, Connor began undoing the ropes that were now digging into Dawn's skin since she no longer had the ability to sit upright.  Connor expected Dante to resume his conversation with Glory, but that didn't happen.  Instead, Dante continued to watch on in idle curiosity as Connor removed Dawn's bonds, Glory remaining silent all the while.

Without waiting for the conversation to continue, Connor gently lifted Dawn into his arms and walked into the next room, which luckily was a bedroom.  At least she'd be able to rest after her ordeal.

With Connor gone, Dante turned back to Glory.  "You know what I'm talking about.  Correct?"

"Yeah, I know.  But Gabriel's an old man, even by our standards.  Do you really think he'll be able to stop you?"

"Doesn't matter if he can or not.  He only has one role, and that's to ultimately find me.  And I cannot be found before I finish what I've come here to do."

"Which is what, exactly?"

"All in good time.  But first, I need you to occupy yourself with the Slayer."

"Occupy?  Is that some kind of fancy code for 'kill her'?  If not, I'm really confused for why the hell you'd need me."

Dante smiled slightly, explaining his actions.  "All of her battles, all of her struggles, you're the only one that's killed her."  Dante paused, correcting his original words.  "Well, there was this one vampire, but that wasn't really much of a death."

"I didn't kill her.  She killed herself, jumping through the gate to seal it."

"Nevertheless, your actions led to her ultimate demise.  I need your whimsy, your penchant, for getting under her skin."

Once again, the anger was beginning to seep into Glory's being.  What right did Dante have to use her as a lowly errand girl?  "And what?  Play musical chairs with her until you're done with whatever it is you have to do?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Then you'll return me to my dimension?"

"Depends."

Glory sighed, realizing that things were getting difficult.  "Fine, I'll bite.  Depends on what?"

Dante smiled as his gaze fell onto the bedroom opening.  "Depends on whether or not you can keep Ms. Summers in your confines when the Slayer comes looking for her."

"Wait, you're saying you can't send me back?"

"Not directly, no.  I need the Key to send you back.  So, you've got two options.  One; follow my orders and I'll send you back."

Dante paused, Glory's impatience getting the better of her.  "And two?"

"Two; I kill you now and look for another alternative."

Glory nodded slightly, realizing that there was always just one choice when it came to Dante.  "Fine.  In that case, can I get some clothes?  I'm starting to feel a little overexposed here."

Fred didn't realize that it was morning until the nurse came into the room, sunlight from the window pouring into the empty room.  She instinctively blinked her eyes, trying to prevent the harsh glare from hurting her sleep-glazed eyes.  The nurse sympathetically smiled at Fred as she laid the tray next to Gunn's bed.

"Miss, you really should get some rest.  We'll let you know when the doctor's ready to release him."

Fred casually pinched a portion of the runny scrambled eggs between her fingers, deftly tossing the fragment into her mouth, she speaking as she chewed the wet, slightly bitter concoction.  "I'm not going anywhere.  Not without him."

The groan from the bed drew Fred's attention, turning from the nurse to the bed.  "She's right, honey.  Go home.  They'll let you know when I can leave, isn't that right, Miss…?"

"Just call me Millie."

Gunn nodded as he continued.  "Isn't that right, Millie?"

"That's right, Mr. Gunn."

Gunn smiled as he pushed himself upright on his elbows.  "It's just Gunn."  As Gunn maneuvered himself upright, Fred moved to his side, about to help him up when Gunn waved her off with a flick of his wrist.  "No.  I should get used to this."

"But, Charles…"

"Baby, I'm okay."  One quick push from the mattress and Gunn was now sitting upright, a slight smile gracing his face as he spoke.  "See?"

"Okay, I get the point, Charles.  But you shouldn't be rushing yourself.  You've been through a lot."

Gunn gently sighed under his breath as he spoke.  "That's one way to put it."

"Honey, I didn't mean…"

"It's okay.  I know what you meant, Fred."

Nurse Millie, seeing that the atmosphere in the room was beginning to become awkward, decided now was a good time to get a doctor to check in on young Mr. Gunn.  Such a sweet couple.  Too bad something like this had to happen to them.  "I'll go and see if Dr. Ramcharan is available to see you."

Gunn nodded as Nurse Millie made a quick exit.  "So, what's for breakfast?"

"Some yellow stuff, some brown stuff, and some orange stuff."

Gunn smiled as he motioned to Fred.  "You mind bringing some of those colors over here?"

"Oh, sorry."  Fred carefully placed the tray on Gunn's lap, Gunn grabbing the plastic fork that lay to the side of the tray.  He stabbed a forkful of egg, hungrily placing it into his mouth.  Unfortunately, the sensation wasn't what he was expecting.  "Doesn't taste too yellow, does it?"

Gunn forcefully swallowed the bite before speaking.  "I don't think there's a word to describe it."

Fred nodded as she moved from the chair, sitting next to Gunn in the bed.  Her hand fell onto his, her grasp gentle.  "Any change?"  Gunn shook his head slightly, trying to push the feelings of doubt to the back of his mind.  Fred's hand slowly slid to Gunn's thigh, giving him a reassuring squeeze.  "The doctor says there's still a chance…"

"Twenty percent."

"That's right."  Fred fought back the tears threatening to douse her eyes.  "You'll be back to yourself in no time."

Gunn meekly smiled, appreciating the front his girlfriend was putting up.  "It's just weird."

"What is?"

Gunn's mind forced his legs to move, to twitch, to do anything.  But the result was the same as the last time he tried to move them.  "It feels like half of me is dead, Fred.  Like half of me is dead."

Fred gently leaned against her boyfriend as they waited for the latest news from Dr. Ramcharan.

She hadn't said word one since they left the Hyperion.  Instead, she just gazed off into the distant horizon, her hair streaming behind her like a cloud trying to keep pace with her.  Spike thought she was just lost in thought, worried about her sister's well being.  After all, Dawn was the only family she had left.  Well, she had her father; but when it came to real family, there was Dawn and that was pretty much it.

However, the silence was starting to make him feel uneasy. "What's wrong, luv?"

Buffy slowly turned around to face Spike, her eyes lost in thought.  "What's that?"

"We've been on the road for half an hour now and you haven't said a word.  What's wrong?"

"Nothing."  Her eyes wandered, looking at everything in Spike's direction except for him.  He could pick that look out in a sea of strangers, it being undeniable.

"Alright.  You don't wanna talk about it, I can respect that.  It's just…"

"Just what?"

Spike looked off into the night, the headlights the only illumination.  "What kind of future are we looking at, eh?  Not even a month and secrets are already coming between us.  I meant it when I said I wanted this to be right, this time.  But, maybe that's just me."  Somewhat frustrated, he sighed while turning the wheel slightly to accommodate the slight turn on the highway.

Looking out onto the surroundings racing past him, he felt Buffy's hand now on his free one.  He looked over slightly, never completely taking his eyes from the road.

"I had a bad dream."

"A dream?"

Buffy frowned slightly, her gaze fixed on him as he continued to drive.  "It didn't feel natural.  It felt almost…"

Spike finished her sentence for her.  "Almost prophetic?"

Her voice was meek, yet ashamed at the same time.  "Yeah."

"Well, tell me about it.  Maybe we can figure out what it means, yeah?"

"I don't know."  The doubt was beginning to fill her once again.  "It…it was kinda about us."

The road suddenly lost the battle as Spike began to let up on the gas, his attention on Buffy now.  "Uh oh.  This can't be good."

"No.  No.  It's nothing like that.  Well, I'm not sure."  Buffy pulled her hand away from Spike, folding them in her lap while she spoke.  "The last time I had a dream this vivid, I…"  He deserved the truth.  If she truly wanted to make a future with him.  "I ended up losing Angel."

Spike looked at her, puzzlement on his face, until he finally comprehended what Buffy was trying to say.  "You mean, Angel losing his soul, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"And what?  You afraid you're gonna lose me too, now?"

"Something like that."

Spike's eyes turned back to the road in front of him, only a few cars in his sight as they continued their trek back to Sunnydale.  He let escape a small sigh before speaking.  "Buffy, I know that your dreams are usually more resonant that some regular bloke's, and I know there's probably nothing I can say to change your mind.  But I'm not going anywhere.  Promise."

"What if you can't prevent it?"

"Doesn't matter.  Found my way back to you once.  I can do it again.  No matter how many times we get pulled apart."

Buffy smiled slightly, the sincerity in his words calming her.  But, she knew that Spike wasn't the problem.  She was.  What if her dream was right?  What if she truly couldn't love, the life of a Slayer making her callous to emotion?  But, the first Slayer had told her that she was full of love.  So, why was this such an issue?

"Buffy?  You okay?"

"Hmm?"

"You started to drift there."

Buffy didn't want to lie, but she needed to keep this to herself before she figured out what the dream had meant.  "It's nothing.  We should get back as fast as we can."  With that, she looked off into the night, her gaze averted from Spike's.  A now confused Spike.

"Right."  With that, he sped up once again.  That was the last word spoken between the two of them for the duration of the drive.

A.D. 813 

The scar on his left cheek was a reminder of the previous battle.  It had only been two cycles ago, but the damage on the village had been done.  The one whom the villagers looked to in times of need.  Rurouni looked out from the entrance of his ramshackle hut and surveyed the extent of the nomads' attack.  He was not one of them, but their battle had become his.  Ever since he and his sister stumbled into the village, the people had accepted them as family, although their outward appearances were strikingly different.

While the bodies had been given a proper burial, the smell of decaying flesh remained, the scent becoming all too familiar to the villagers.  Rurouni could feel the hopelessness in the air.  It was almost as if the villagers were beginning to pray for a quick end, the struggle to survive becoming more of a burden than an obligation.  Even he began to feel the despair beginning to seep into his soul.  Ever so slightly, but it was still there.

The foreigner stood up slowly, his hand on the sheath of the sword that remained constantly by his side.  He began to walk through the village, thinking that the act of walking would be enough to drive the thoughts from his mind.  Unfortunately, he was wrong.

Rurouni's eyes fell upon the children playing a few feet away from him, not a care in the world.  Was he ever that innocent?  He tried to recollect a happier time in his life.  One that didn't end in death.  He thought of his parents.  Of how the shogunate had executed them as he and his sister fled into the darkness of night.  That was the night he killed for the first time.  He thanked his father for teaching him the art of the sword as he protected his sister, the smell of blood new, yet welcoming, to him.  He had lost count of how many of the Emperor's men he had slain.  It didn't matter.  Tomoe was safe.  That was all that mattered.  His sister was his life after that.  He swore to his parents that he'd protect her.  No matter what.  Rurouni could only wonder what his parents thought of him now.

The little girl waved at him, calling him by his adopted name.  She behaved so much like Tomoe.  Her hair was shorter than his sister's, and the freckles on her small face distinguished her.  But, other than that, the girl was the splitting image of his sister.  Wasn't she?  It had only been two cycles since…

Rurouni smiled quickly before moving past the children as the thought reverberated in his head.  Try as he could, Tomoe's face was beginning to evade him.  It had only been two cycles.  Only two cycles.  How could she have left him?  Left him without a chance to say goodbye.

The screams came without warning, quickly followed by smoke.  Rurouni turned his gaze to the commotion as the explosions resonated in the distance.  It had only been two cycles.  The nomads were moving in for the kill.  And God help them if the villagers expected to see another sunrise.  The sword came from the sheath effortlessly as he began to make his way toward the battle, calling upon the men to aid him.

To no avail.  His initial account of the village was precise.  The men stared out into the distance, waiting for the inevitable.  Be it today, tomorrow or the next harvest.  The outcome would still be the same.  And they were so tired.

Rurouni continued forward, his strides coming faster as the surroundings rushed past him.  He had promised his parents that he would fight until there was peace throughout the lands.  He would be Heaven's justice.  Now, more than ever, he held his parents' words close to his heart, Tomoe's face beginning to come more into focus in his mind's eye.

He smiled slightly as his sword began to move of its own accord.  The nomads continued to attack, but none were able to touch him.  It was as if he was being led by a greater power, the enemy falling about him as though they were autumn leaves floating gently to the earth.  The screams about him began to fade out, becoming mere echoes, as Rurouni continued to protect the village.  He may not be one of them, but he was family.  And he'd protect them to the very end.

His sword flew true, biting into the flesh of the enemy before they knew that they had been given entry into Death's domain.  Rurouni savored the looks on their faces as they realized that their life had been taken by one fell swoop of a thin piece of metal.  His father's sword.  Even now, he could feel his father's presence as he continued through the melee.

That was, until his leg exploded into an amalgamation of flesh and bone.  Rurouni fell to his knees, instinct preventing him from grasping at the wound even though it hurt to no end.  Instead, he continued to fight, even though he was no longer mobile.  His eyes scanned the horizon to find the source of his injury, to no avail.  The nomads hindered his view as they continued unabated, the screams from the villagers beginning to seep back into his consciousness.  Rurouni couldn't help but think that this was a portent.

The explosion against his chest answered him definitely as he the pain finally became unbearable, the scream emanating from his lips unearthly.  He expected the attackers to finish him quickly, to make him suffer.  However, this wasn't the case

Instead, they turned their attention to the villagers, leaving Rurouni in a confused daze while the blood poured freely from his chest and leg.  The sword planted itself into the earth as he tried to stand.  He lifted himself onto one leg until the pain coursed through his body, Rurouni falling back onto his knees.

Through the screams of anguish and pleasure, Rurouni could hear the footfalls approaching.  He willed his gaze to look up, his hands on the hilt of his father's sword, still trying to lift himself up to continue the fight.  That's when he saw the man moving the quiver about his shoulder as he placed the arrow back in its holder.

The man stood in front of Rurouni, a subtle smile of admiration on his face while he spoke.  "Impressive.  One man, killing so many.  And so obstinate.  Tell me, what do they call you?"

"Why?"

The nomad chuckled slightly, as though he was having a conversation with a dear friend.  "I want to know who I'm sending to hell.  The villagers call you Rurouni.  Wanderer.  Tell me your true name.  Warrior to warrior."

Rurouni lifted his head, his vision becoming blurry.  Then, with a slight smile on his face as he prepared himself for the inevitable, he answered his killer's question.

"Dante."

"I wait for the day I see you again, Dante."

Dante looked past the nomad, his gaze falling out into the distance.  Behind the nomad, in the mix of the slaughter of the villagers, there stood his sister.  Tomoe.  She had a gentle smile on her face as she walked toward her older brother.  Dante cherished the fact that the last thing he saw in life was his sister's gentle face.  He never felt the knife as it plunged into his skull.

A.D. 1986 

The bruise on her left cheek had swollen, the makeup no longer able to conceal the discoloration.  She didn't go into work, instead calling in sick.  There were things that needed her attention at home.  Preparations before Ray came home.

Ray hadn't always been like this.  He had loved her when they first met.  When they made love under the starlight in the back of his pick up.  When he had asked her to marry him at the tender age of twenty.  Her parents had thought it a bad idea.  She was rushing into something that she wasn't ready for.

But, she was ready.  Ready to leave the small town life behind her and venture out into the city.  She had imagined a life of excitement and wonder once they reached the city.  And she was right.  At least at first.

She had given birth to their first son in the winter of 1978.  She had wanted to name him David, after her father, but Ray didn't much care for the name.  Instead, their first son went by the name Daniel.  Their second son didn't enter the picture until the spring of 1980.  This one she did get to name David.  Mainly because Ray didn't seem too concerned with things at home, work beginning to take up more and more of his time.  After all, the bills didn't pay themselves, as he had said on numerous occasions.

Ray never touched her, at least not intimately, once he got his promotion to vice president of the company.  She knew that he had more work, what with his new title.  But, never would she have guessed that he was cheating on her.  Not until that fateful night.

The boys were over at their grandparents, while she was supposed to be visiting her sister in Tulsa.  However, her flight had been canceled based on the harsh snowfall.  The next flight would be in a few days.  That was okay, though.  A few days alone with Ray couldn't be all bad, now could it?

She didn't realize the answer until she came home that night.  His car was in the driveway, early.  It was only seven-thirty.  Maybe he was able to get away from work?  Maybe he heard about the snowstorm on the news and wanted to wait for her and cheer her up?  Maybe.

But, that wasn't the case.  The load moans coming from their bedroom said otherwise.  She knew those sounds.  She had made those sounds for him once upon a time.  When he still touched her.  Like he did that night when he proposed to her.

She slowly made her way up the stairs, each step closer to the bedroom more frightening than the previous.  She didn't want to know what was happening behind the door.  But, she had to know.  If only to put her mind at ease, in a rather twisted sense of the word.

The bed creaked as the headboard crashed continually against the boys' bedroom wall.  She could hear Ray as he groaned loudly, the feminine voice matching him in cadence.  Her lower lip fell between her teeth as she hesitantly opened the door.  As the door swung slowly open, her worst fears were finally visible, no longer a figment of her imagination.

While the man held on to the woman's legs as he thrust continually into her looked like her husband, the look that graced his face as he realized that there was someone else in the room shook her to her very foundation.  Ray quickly raced from the bed, his lover still confused as to what was transpiring.  As his wife tried to explain herself, Ray grabbed her fiercely by the hair, slamming her face against the doorjamb.

She could only make out a few words through her fuzzy senses, the pain beginning to surge through her body.  Ray threw words like whore and slut at her as she lay at his feet.  She wondered if he was talking about the woman in their bed, but realized it was her.  The foot to the side of her ribcage answered any lingering doubts as to whom those words were meant for.

She could hear the footfalls of the other woman as she quickly made her way out of the bedroom, her job already done.  She didn't recall the rest of the night, however.  Because she blacked out somewhere between the third to fourth slap to her face.

And that was how it started.  She had to wonder if this was all her fault.  After all, Ray had always been kind to her.  Gentle.  Until that night when she discovered his secret.  That was when Ray transformed from loving husband to something else.  Something she didn't recognize.  Something that scared her.

When she tried to leave Ray the first time, he had broken her arm as Daniel and David looked on.  Daniel had tried to help his mother, but Ray had rewarded his nobility by knocking him unconscious with the back of his fist.  David just stood there and cried as his mother tried to calm him.  It almost worked.  Until Ray started to strangle him to cease his incessant bawling.

That was when the woman realized that Ray was gone.  In his place was this monster that beat her for sheer amusement and terrified her children to the point of tears.  She had asked him one day why he was treating his family like this.  She never forgot his words before the belt came across her back, the buckle digging into her flesh.

_Because I can.  You've been nothing to me but a whore.  Nothing more._

The memory fell to the wayside as she walked up the stairs.  Daniel and David were still sleeping.  She wanted to make sure they were tucked in before Ray came home.  There was no other choice.  She had to tell herself that.  No one believed her when she spoke of the abuse Ray had begun inflicting on her.  After all, whom would you believe?  A stand up member of the neighborhood whose donations contributed to the new park that the local children played at, or his nobody wife?

When she had told her parents of what was transpiring, the response was not what she expected.  Her father had told her that it served her right, while her mother remained silent, never looking at her little girl.  That was the last time she talked to them.

The bedroom door swung open as the woman walked slowly into the room.  Daniel and David were still in their beds, fast asleep.  She walked over to the bunk bed, her smile turning into a grimace as she realized what she had done.  But, it was the only way.  They didn't feel any pain.  The diluted sleeping pills in their milk saw to that.

It was still eerie, looking at them like this.  Her little boys.  Little dolls.  Not moving.  Not breathing.  Peaceful.  She had to do it.  It was only a matter of time before one of Ray's tantrums got directed to them.  And she wouldn't be able to live with the thought of Ray hurting her little angels.

The front door slammed close, the sound echoing up to the boys' bedroom.  He was home.  Too soon.  She hadn't had time to drug herself.  No choice.  She had to end it before it got worse.  She reached into her pocket, pulling out her husband's revolver.  The last thing Haruna saw before pulling the trigger were her two boys.  Safe from Ray.

"Buffy, thank God you two are back."

Buffy walked into the living room, Spike close behind.  She made her way toward Willow and Tara as Spike maintained his distance, allowing Buffy her space.

"So, what have you two been able to find out?"

Tara spoke as Willow tried to maintain her composure, the fear of Buffy blaming her for losing Dawn on her mind.  "Her study group said that she left the library about eight, so somewhere between there and here, she got kidnapped."

"Any sign of struggle?"

"We're not entirely sure, but the trace spell that Willow used showed that the last place Dawn was at was the park."

The situation didn't add up in Buffy's mind as she spoke.  "The last place?"

Willow spoke, answering her friend's question.  "The spell just stops in the park.  It's like…"  Willow took a calming breath before continuing.  "It's like she was swallowed up by the universe."

Buffy nodded, realizing that whoever took Dawn didn't want her finding her little sister.  She turned to Spike as she spoke.  "We should go check out the park, see if we can find anything else."  Her gaze fell on the two witches, urgency in her voice.  "You guys try the locator spell again.  Start from the library this time and see where it leads you."

Willow and Tara nodded agreement as they began to gather up their spellbooks.  As Buffy began to walk toward Spike, she could see the worry evident on his face.  "Hey you."

"Hey."

"You don't think we'll find her?"

Spike frowned as he spoke.  "Not in time.  They have such a lead on us."  He sighed, frustration tinting his voice.  "Hell.  We don't even know who 'they' are."

"We'll find her.  I know we will."

Spike smiled at Buffy, she returning it in kind.  Even now, he seemed like such a different person than the one she had met all those years ago.  She had seen him change through the years.  To the person he was right now.  The person that loved her.  And her family.  Maybe the dream was wrong.

She didn't get the chance to contemplate the thought as the front door flew off the hinges, slamming against the stairwell.  The group turned toward the door, trying to make out the silhouette through the woodchips and dust.  When the cloud finally settled, Buffy took a step back, not believing what her eyes were showing her.

"Glory?"

"Hello, bitch!  I was in the neighborhood.  Decided to stop by and say hi."

_To be continued_


	8. Heaven Sent

Title:  Heaven Sent

Author:  Spike Speigel

E-mail:  spikespeigel26@yahoo.com

Rating:  R (Language and Violence)

Classification:  Buffy/Spike, Angel/Cordelia

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me because I don't have the imagination to even touch Mr. Whedon's.

Spoilers:  Sequel to Falling into You.  Anything's fair game from season six of BtVS and season three of AtS.

Summary:  Where Angels Tread (VIII of XIII)

Status:  Finished

**Sunnydale (Present)**

"Hello, bitch!  I was in the neighborhood.  Decided to stop by and say hi."

**Los Angeles (Present)**

"Look, we need to focus on the matter at hand.  Cordy's vision still needs to be verified.  I know we all want to be with Gunn, but we've got to look at the bigger picture.  Unless Cordy's wrong, Armageddon's coming, people.  And we need to make sure that it doesn't happen."

Angel stood in the middle of the lobby, waiting for his audience to respond to his succinct yet dramatic speech.  The group spoke.

"Angel.  I'm the only one here.  Fred's at the hospital with Gunn and Lorne's upstairs recuperating.  So, I think you can replace all those 'Cordys' with 'you'."

He didn't mean to chuckle, but she was right.  Seems that their numbers were thinning, without him even realizing it.  At least Cordy was still with him.  She always was.

"Sorry, Cordelia.  Kinda got stuck in dramatic speech mode."

"It's okay.  I'm in my Oscar acceptance mode, so I know how hard it is to get out of the mood."

Angel smiled slightly before the weight of the situation finally dawned on him.  "Where do we start?  Trying to validate your vision."

Cordelia furrowed her brow, trying to come up with an idea that would answer all of their problems.  She finally came to a decision.  "We could just smack Spike around until he tells us the truth."

"Don't think that's an option, Cordy, as much as the idea tempts me."

Angel moved over to the leather couch that once served as a respite for guests as they waited for the bellboy to take their luggage to their assigned rooms.  He sighed softly as he sat next to Cordelia, feeling her weight shifting against his shoulder as she leaned against him.

"So, now what?"

Angel answered truthfully.  "Honestly.  I don't know.  Maybe we should wait until Fred comes back.  Three heads are better than two."

"Maybe you're right.  But I hate this, being clueless.  You'd think the Powers would send me another head-o-gram just to expedite matters."

"I wouldn't bother too much with the Powers.  They can't help you now."  Angel and Cordelia turned to the front door of the Hyperion to see who had just spoken.  Angel looked on at the stranger as Cordelia began to tense up.

"Cordy?"

She didn't hear Angel for she was lapsing into a vision.

The Border (Past) 

"You know.  When you brought me here to serve as one of the seraphim, I didn't expect this?"

Gabriel turned to his young ward, a hint of a smile on his face almost evident.  Almost.  Because, the metatron didn't give into such frailties.  That would indicate weakness.  And the metatron was anything but weak.  What would people think if the voice of God was seen as weak, after all?

"You didn't expect what, Dante?"

Dante looked off into the distance, looking literally into the depths of hell.  "I didn't expect being a watchdog for the Border.  Surely, my talents are better suited elsewhere?"

"Surely."

Dante waited for Gabriel to continue speaking, explaining why exactly one of the higher rank of seraphim was tasked with a job akin to a customs officer stationed at the U.S./Mexico border.  Unfortunately, one didn't come as Gabriel continued walking, his gaze looking into the realm of the hellgods.

"So?"

"So what?"

The frustration was almost evident in Dante's tone as he spoke.  One of the reasons Gabriel had chosen Dante for inclusion into His army was because of Dante's inherent warrior mentality and nobility.  Seeing him as he fought against unfathomable odds without hesitating, that was a rarity.  Especially in humanity.

"Why am I here?  I should be with my brothers, fighting in the war."

"Your brothers are fine, Dante.  You're needed here."

"But why?  Why waste my talents on a task such as this?!?"

"Because this is where you are needed.  You don't question His reasons."  Gabriel turned his gaze from the eternal fires, now looking at Dante.  "That's like questioning why the sky is."

"Wait, that's not even a…"

"Besides.  You'll be called to the front sooner or later.  So, why complain about why you aren't there when you can use this time for contemplation.  And if you're really lucky, maybe one of them," Gabriel nodded in the direction of the Border, "will try and cross.  Then you'll be able to use those skills that your father blessed you with."

Dante gripped the hilt of his father's sword, his gaze never wavering from Gabriel's.  "My skills are not a blessing.  They are a necessity.  Especially in this day and age.  Tell me, why is it that their numbers grow greater every day while ours creep ahead at a snail's pace?"

"It's your imagination.  The forces of good and evil are balanced.  They…"

"You're wrong.  I've been at this post for numerous years now and I've seen their lands grow ever more populated while ours dawdle forward.  If this keeps up, we're not going to win this war.  The hellbeasts will."

Both men remained silent as they looked on at the events unfolding across the Border.  Dante waited for an answer from Gabriel, but wasn't surprised as Gabriel began to walk away from the Border, back to his post.

"Be well, Dante.  Until we next meet."

Dante never turned as he spoke.  "Until next we meet."  He wasn't wrong.  The fires were growing brighter with every passing day.  He wasn't imagining it.  Hell was going to win this war.  Simply because the world was a veritable breeding ground for too many of their kind and not enough of his.

**Sunnydale**

"No.  You're dead.  You're…"

Glory chuckled slightly as she walked casually though the debris at her feet, as though she was an invited guest.  "Come on, Slayer.  You honestly didn't think you could kill a God, did you?"  Glory smiled as she continued.  "Well, the old man thought he could.  But as you can see, I'm still alive and kicking."

Buffy remained still, watching in trepidation at what she hoped was a dream.  Nothing but a terrible dream.

"What are you…?"

Glory answered Buffy's question before she had a chance to voice it.  "You know, the stuffy Brit with the glasses.  Killed my Benji, he did.  Thought that Benji and I were linked."  She folded her arms across her chest as she reveled in the sight before her.  Every face in the room was the same.  Fear.  God, how she missed this feeling.  "Guess he was wrong."

"You're lying.  Giles wouldn't.  He…he couldn't."

"How would you know?  You ran off to tend to the Key while gramps performed his little act of unwarranted euthanasia.  Or are you still playing make believe that it's your sister?"

"You're…you're…"

Spike could see that Glory was getting the better of Buffy.  First the abrupt revelation of the hellgod's well being, and now the possibility of Giles' involvement in Ben's death.  It was time to stop this.  Now.

"Where's the niblet, you she bitch from hell?!?"

Glory turned her attention from the Slayer to the vampire.  No, that wasn't right.  He didn't have the smell of a demon on him anymore.  He was something different.  Something familiar.

"Well, well, well.  If it isn't the Billy Idol reject.  Didn't get enough of my kicking your ass the last time?"

"Answer the bloody question.  Where's Dawn?"

"And what if I don't tell?  You gonna rough me up, pretty boy?  Tell the truth, I don't see that happening any time soon.  Do you?"

"You have no idea what I'm capable of."

Glory caught the look Buffy gave him as the words left his lips.  She couldn't believe it.  "Well, look at this.  The Slayer's gone and shacked up with a demon."  She corrected herself.  "Sorry, ex-demon.  What's the world coming to when the forces of good and evil mingle between the sheets?  I mean, I can understand the two witches, but you two?  Now that's just wrong."

Willow finally spoke up; Tara still at her side as she held on tightly to her arm as the memories of her previous encounter with Glory began to come to the surface.  "And you're one to tell us about right and wrong?  You tried to end the world."

Glory smiled as she remembered her previous conversation with Dante as he filled her in on the events that had transpired while she was absent from this dimension.  "Way I hear it, we're not that different, Princess.  Although, copying me so blatantly.  I don't know whether I should be flattered or offended."

Buffy regained her composure, moving closer to Glory as she spoke.  "That's enough.  I don't care why you're here.  I took you down once.  I can sure as hell do it again."

The laughter that echoed through the Summers' resident was almost childlike.  Nevertheless, the resonance left the onlookers with a sense of dread.  "That's rich.  You don't have your precious hammer.  How are you going to stop me?"

Before Glory knew what had happened, she was sent careening back through the remnants of what was once the front door by means of a makeshift energy bolt.  Buffy and Spike turned around almost simultaneously to see the source as the air surrounding Tara and Willow continued to crackle with static electricity.  Tara smiled slightly as Willow gently squeezed her arm, answering Glory's question.

"How's that, bitch?"

"Willow?!?"

Willow smiled sheepishly to Buffy as she spoke.  "No one talks like that to my friends.  Even a god."

Spike smiled slightly at Willow, a tone of respect in his voice.  "Look at the bird.  Got some real stones, she does."

Before Willow could respond to Spike's compliment, the ground began to shake.  That's when the front wall of the house fell away, Glory standing amidst the rubble.

"Enough of these games.  You die.  Now."

Los Angeles 

"Cordelia!"

Before Angel could move to Cordelia to catch her in mid descent as she began to fall to the hard tile, the flash of silver and gray graced his vision, the next thing Angel seeing was the ceiling of the Hyperion as he flew through the air.  If it wasn't for the stairs that descended into the middle of the lobby, Angel was certain he would have remained airborne.  However, the sensation of concrete and plaster crumbling against his back was less than pleasant.  At least it wasn't wood.  That was something, right?

Angel began to pull himself out of the rubble, the sight in front of him leaving him numb.  The stranger held Cordelia in his arm, his free hand gently brushing away the errant strands of hair from her brow.  He almost looked gentle holding Cordelia in his grasp.  Then again, the bastard had just thrown him through three feet of concrete.

"She is something, isn't she?  Once human.  Now something more.  All because of you."

"Put her down.  Now!"  The words sounded hollow even to Angel.  But he had to make it sound like there was a chance he proved a danger to the silver haired stranger.  Angel began to size up his opponent.  He looked experienced and battle worn.  The scar running the length of his face made that evident.  And the skillful way he had dispatched Angel.  This wasn't an amateur.  This was something different.

"I'm not going to hurt her."  The stranger smiled gently as his fingers gently traced the curve of Cordelia's cheek.  "Not yet, at any rate."

"Who are you?  And what do you want?"

"To the point.  Connor mentioned you were a man of few words."

Connor?  How did he know Connor?  "What are you…?"  The stranger interrupted before Angel could finish his query.

"My name is Dante.  And I've come for someone very special."  His gaze fell back to Cordelia as she remained in a catatonic state, her vision continuing to control her consciousness.  Angel saw his opportunity.  After all, you never turned your attention from your opponent.  Especially a vampire.

Angel rushed toward Dante, the images racing through his mind.  He would knock the stranger back, catching Cordelia in mid blow.  From there, he'd play it by ear.   Unfortunately, Dante didn't seem informed to the intricacies of Angel's plan since he caught Angel's fist in midair, squeezing it firmly in his grasp.

Angel groaned audibly while he could hear the bones in his hand audibly crack under Dante's grasp.  Dante never looked at him, his gaze remaining on Cordelia.

"I can see why she did it."

It was all Angel could do to utter the words as the pain continued to surge through his body.  "What the hell are you…talking about?"

"Why she damned herself.  Love blinds us all.  Even when we know it does.  Especially when we know the consequences."

Angel swung his free arm forward, his fist swift and sure.  However, Dante was swifter and surer as he moved out of the way of the blow, returning one of his own against Angel's chest.  As Angel fell to his knees, the blow's impact resonating through his bones, Dante finally looked toward Angel.

"You should be more careful.  That blow could have taken Cordelia's head clean off had I not acted quickly."

Cordelia?  He knew them.  The bastard knew them.  Connor.  He was behind this.  Somehow.

"Whatever Connor told you, it's a lie.  His mind was warped by a man called…"

"Holtz.  Yes, I know.  I know of how he kidnapped Connor and took him away from you.  I know that Connor thinks that you killed his so-called father.  And I know that he won't stop until you're dead."

"Then, why?  Why take Cordelia?"

Dante looked at Angel, somewhat perplexed at the question.  That's when he realized the connection that Angel was undoubtedly drawing, since Cordelia was still in his grasp.  "Oh, you think I came here for Cordelia?  Make no mistake; she has her part in this.  But I'm not here for her.  Not yet."

"Then what…?"

Dante gently placed Cordelia on the floor, his hand delicately placing her head onto the cold, uninviting tile.  His attention quickly returned to Angel as he saw him begin to move back to his feet.

"You misunderstood, Angel.  I didn't come here for Cordelia."  Angel was now upright as he looked Dante in the eye.  "I came here for you, Angel."

Angel grinned as he saw Cordelia lying safely.  Away from this madman.  "Is that a fact?  Well, the only way you're gonna do that is over my dead, lifeless body.  Figuratively of course since I'm already dead."

"Of course."  A subtle smile graced Dante's lips as he looked on at the vampire.  "Let's see what we can do about that.  Shall we?"

All the while, Cordelia remained entranced while the vision continued to unfold.

The Border 

The images were always the same.  Flesh rend from the bone, the anguished screams of the damned, and the cackling of jubilant laughter.  Always the same.  Such was the intricacies of hell.

Yet, Dante could feel it in his soul.  The hellions would inevitably win the war.  Even with their hatred for one another and lack of real leadership with the various rulers of hell always trying to claim more of the domain for themselves, they would win.  The numbers told the tale.  There were more sinners than saints.  Such was the way of humanity.  Only the good die young.

"Tomoe."

Dante could feel the sadness beginning to overcome him.  Ever since his arrival, he had not seen his sister or his parents.  Instead, Gabriel had guided him to his destiny.  If you could call it that.  Instead of being with the other Seraphim, he was stuck at the Border.  In actuality, there was no safer place to be.  After all, no one would dare to cross for fear of the repercussions.  After all, even in war, there are rules.

"Come back here, bitch!  We owe you pain!"

All Dante could think was what could possibly be happening now on the other side.  He moved closer to the Border to see what was happening.  Never mind that he didn't have to move closer since he had the vision that could put the Hubble to shame.  It was just that he was a man that liked to get up close and personal.  There was no honor in standing in the distance.

Nearing the Border, he could see a group of Shion demons closing the distance between them and a human.  A woman by the looks of it.  They were probably going to molest her.  The Shions always had a weakness for human females.  It was nothing that Dante hadn't seen before.  However, as he began to make his way back to his post, he heard something from the other side that he'd never heard before.

"Your friend deserved it.  She's only thirteen for God's sake!"

Dante slowly turned back, his attention focused more intently on the woman.  And there it was, under her arm.  A little girl.  What was going on?  An act of decency in Hell?  That wasn't right.  Was it?

His pace quickened while the Border came rushing toward him.  This wasn't right.  This wasn't right at all.  This wasn't what Gabriel had told him when he first got here.  The good were on his side and the evil was on the other side.  That was that.  But, in this case, it wasn't.  All because a woman was trying to save the innocence of a little girl in Hell.

Innocence?

"Get a hold of yourself, man."  The words were to convince him that this incident was nothing special.  Unfortunately, the words were just that.  Words.  He knew the truth.  This was something different.  After all, there was good and evil.  Shades of gray had no place in this realm.  If it existed, what would be the point of the war?  What if he had killed innocents during his brief time at the front?   What if…

"Why do you care what happens to this whelp?!?"  Dante stirred from his thoughts, the voice that sounded like thunder during a hurricane beginning to fill his ears.  "You know what?  I don't care.  First we'll have our way with the brat and make you watch.  So you'll know what's coming once we're done with her."

The woman protecting the child spoke, no hint of fear in her voice.  "Bring it, tubby.  I took out your boy with one shot.  Didn't even see it coming."

"That's because you gouged his eyes out with your fingers."

A small chuckle emanated from her lips as the child remained close to the woman's side, clutching her for dear life.  "Oh yeah.  That's right.  And if you know what's good for you, you'll just back off right now.  Actually, you look smaller than your friend, so what can you do to…"

The leader Shion increased in size, now towering over the woman and child, while his underlings cackled jubilantly as though they were Oompa Loompas on a cocaine high.

"…us?"

_This isn't right._

That was all that Dante could hear screaming through his mind as he watched the events unfold from his side of the Border.  Someone had to do something.  The woman was outmatched.  And all she was doing was protecting a child.  She didn't deserve this.  She didn't…

Dante's jaw clenched as he looked back over his shoulder.  No one around.  No one would know.  Just this once.  And, it was for a good cause.

At least that was what Dante felt in his heart.

Before he realized what he had done, Dante was leaping across the Border, his hand firmly on the hilt of his father's sword.  He landed between the woman with the child and the Shions without making a sound.  Instead, he remained poised, his fingers tensing against the metal between them.

"Wha…what is this?!?"

Dante answered the leader's question to the point.  "Leave before things get worse."

"Look at the little angel.  Fuck off.  You have no jurisdiction on this side, boy.  Get out of my way before I make you regret crossing the Border."  Some have said that even Death would have backed down from Dante's gaze at that moment.  The look being neither angelic nor demonic in nature.  The look was something worse.  "You deaf, pecker?  Fuck!  Off!"

"No."

The demon laughed as he charged toward Dante.  "Enough games.  You bore me."

Dante's arm flew from his side, the blade plunging into the demon's chest.  Unfortunately, it didn't seem to do any considerable damage as the Shion continued to charge at him at the females behind him.

The Shion's mangled claw came crashing down onto the ground.  However, Dante skillfully dodged it as he began his sprint toward the monster.  He could hear the woman call out as he ran toward the demon.

"Stop!  He'll kill you!"

Too much.  Too confusing.  What was happening?  The demon woman actually cared about his well being?  A demon caring for an angel.  Nothing made sense anymore as Dante dodged another fist, leaping toward the demon's chest.

His hands clutched the sword embedded in the Shion's chest, his feet planted against the demon's chest.  Dante whispered to himself his silent prayer as he readied his attack.

"Father.  Give me the strength to be Heaven's Justice."

With that, Dante leapt upward, his father's sword firmly in his grip.  The blade moved smoothly, as though someone was cutting butter with a hot knife.  The demon never got a chance to scream out in pain.  Because, before the words would have had the chance to hit the air, Dante's blade was splitting his skull in twain.

Dante landed gently on the ground beneath him, slowly sheathing his sword.  The Shion's minions began to scatter as the huge behemoth fell to the ground, one part to the left, the other to the right, while the remnants pooled in the middle.

He watched as the demons scattered back to the shadows before turning around.

"Are you two okay?"

The woman gently smiled at him, her eyes filled with doubt and confusion while she spoke.  "We're fine.  We're…  Thank you.  But, won't you get in trouble for crossing…"

"I couldn't just stand there and watch while those monsters had their way with you."  The little girl.  He did it for the little girl also.  "Um, the both of you."  The little girl remained near the woman's side, looking even more terrified than before.  "I won't hurt you.  I promise."

"It's okay.  She's originally from this dimension.  She's been taught that all angels are evil."

"She's a hellspawn?  But, she doesn't look like one."

"I know.  She started mimicking me.  Guess she hasn't had that much exposure to humans.  But, it's nice to have friends, especially in a place like this.  Oh, I'm sorry.  I didn't even ask who our savior is?"

Dante smiled slightly, genuinely perplexed by the conversation he was having with a human accompanied by a hellspawn.  "Dante.  My name is Dante.  And you are?"

The woman returned Dante's smile, the confusion evident in her tone as well.  "Haruna.  Nice to meet you, Dante."

Sunnydale 

Glory moved quickly into the house, grabbing Buffy by the front of her shirt.  Buffy's head flew forward, crashing into Glory's head.  The disorientation was all that Buffy needed as her knee came crashing against Glory's midsection.

Now, for a normal person, getting a Slayer's knee in the midsection is akin to getting a cannon shot at you from point blank range.  To Glory, however, it was more like a mosquito trying to pierce chain mail.

Glory grabbed Buffy's throat, her fist reared back to crash down into her face.  However, the hand that gripped about her wrist prevented her from doing so.

"None of that, now.  Play nice or I'll have to send you to time out."

Glory turned back, a slight grin on her face aimed at her minor hindrance.  "Oh, if it isn't the vampire?  Back for seconds, baby?"  Glory pulled her hand away from Spike's grasp.  Actually, she tried to pull away from Spike's grasp, realizing that she was having trouble breaking his hold.  Maybe she was still recovering from being pulled back into this dimension?

Buffy took the distraction as an opportunity while she lifted her legs off the ground, kicking forward into Glory's midsection.  Why settle for one knee when two feet could do more damage.  Glory released Buffy, Buffy falling backward onto the floor as Glory continued to struggle with Spike.

"Let go."

"Make me, bitch."

Glory turned back to Buffy, a hint of frustration tinting her voice.  "Stay there.  I've got to take care of your boyfriend first."  With that, Glory turned back to Spike, fire now in her gaze.  "Round two it is."

Spike never saw the punch.  He felt it, though, as it crashed into the side of his face.  Before he knew it, he was crashing through the wall of Buffy's house plummeting onto the sidewalk.  Painfully.

Looking up, he could see Glory making his way toward him while he began to pick himself from the sidewalk.  Unfortunately, he was slower than she was, Glory closing the distance between them as Spike tried to shake the cobwebs from his head.  She probably would have gone to town on him if it hadn't been for the force field now separating them.  Force field?

Spike looked back to the house, seeing Willow and Tara standing in the hole that used to be the front door.  Or the wall.  He couldn't really tell.  Glory caught the look and turned around, knowing full well what she'd find.

"You witches are starting to get on my nerves!"  Before Willow could quip about Glory's eternal bad home perm, Glory's foot came crashing down onto the ground producing a small seismic disturbance.  It was enough to break the concentration of Willow and Tara as they stumbled awkwardly until the ground came rushing up to meet them.

Glory turned back to Spike, her grin now replaced by a vicious scowl.  Things weren't going as she had expected.  She was just supposed to come here and savagely murder the Slayer and her friends.  Was that too much to ask for?

Spike made his way to his feet quickly, the effects of Glory's blow beginning to dissipate.  He began to wonder how he'd even survived that blow.  She was a god, and all she'd managed to do was give him a headache.  The thought was fleeting, however, as Glory's fists swung down onto the force field in a double fisted impact.  The force field shattered like so many glass shards, Glory continuing to close the distance between her and Spike.

Spike could see Buffy running out of the house, ready to continue the fight.  However, Glory would reach him before Buffy reached her.  No choice.  He'd have to bear down.

"Look, maybe I was a little off when I called you a bitch."

"Yeah?  Let's see how off you are when I rip your head from your shoulders, you Billy Idol reject."

Glory swung at Spike, every fiber of her strength behind the blow.  That's why she was awestruck when Spike caught her fist in midair, holding it securely in his hand.  Spike growled softly, the words rough.  "He.  Stole.  My.  Look!"

Glory's awe quickly faded, morphing into something else entirely, when she felt the fist across her jaw, she falling to the ground.  Buffy stopped in her tracks as the scene unfolded in front of her.  Spike had just hit Glory.  Hard enough to make her fall to the earth.  What was going on?  Spike was human.  Right?

Her hand went quickly to her lip, her eyes never leaving the vampire.  She could taste it in her mouth and feel it on her skin.  Glory brought her eyes to her hand, seeing the reddish black substance that was now streaked against the skin.  Blood.  God's blood.

"What the hell are you?!?"

Spike looked quickly to Buffy, seeing the fear in her eyes as well.  He didn't know what he was.  But, if it was enough to protect Buffy, then so be it.

"I…I don't…"

Glory didn't wait for an answer.  She bolted from the ground, her fist catching Spike across the chin.  Spike stumbled backward, returning a blow of his own.  Meanwhile, Buffy stood in shock as Spike traded blows with a god.

**Los Angeles**

Angel rushed forward, his shoulder crashing into Dante's midsection.  Before Dante could react, Angel's head flew upward, the crown of his skull smashing into Dante's chin.  Dante stumbled backward, a somewhat surprised look in his eyes.  Angel had him where he wanted him.  Now, he just had to keep the upper hand.

His leg flew from underneath him, the heel connecting with Dante's temple.  While Angel's body completed its movement, the heel of his palm came in contact with Dante's throat.  He had hoped it'd be enough to knock the wind out of his opponent.

Instead, Dante just continued backing away from Angel, absorbing the vampire's blows.  Something wasn't right.  Why wasn't the bastard fighting back?  No matter.  He had to protect Cordelia.  There was no telling what this madman would do to her if he failed.  He wouldn't let that happen.  Never.

"Come on.  Don't tell me this is all you've got going for you?"

Dante groaned slightly upon feeling Angel's fist rebounding off his ribcage.  "Oh.  What's that?"

"A cool haircut and a stylish scar.  Because, seriously.  The potato sack look.  Not doing anything for you."

"I'll take it…"  Angel's elbow came crashing into Dante's midsection, the vampire moving deftly, grabbing Dante's arm and throwing him over his shoulder.  Unfortunately for Angel, Dante landed gracefully on his feet, no hint of battle fatigue about him.  "…under advisement."

Angel nodded slightly.  "You're good."

"You haven't seen anything yet."

"I knew it.  You're holding back."

Dante chuckled softly.  "That's for me to know…"

"…And me to find out?"

"Something like that."

Angel grinned at his attacker before rushing toward him once again.  He hated to admit it, but he hadn't felt this alive since…no, that wasn't true.  That was his past.

He pushed the memory away, leaping toward Dante as only a vampire in the lobby of a hotel could.  Angel grabbed onto the chandelier, swinging forward before letting go.  His aim was true, his knee coming crashing down on Dante's shoulder.  Angel expected the stranger to crumble to the ground after such a devastating blow, but instead, Dante took the blow, merely shuffling backward while Angel landed on his feet.

"What the hell are you made out of?"

Dante just smiled while he answered.  "All in good time, Angelus."

"Seems someone's been doing their homework.  But, I'm not him.  Not anymore."

"We'll see about that."

Angel began to walk toward Dante, his glance shifting between him and the circular couch in the center of the lobby.  "Well, you know what they say.  The bigger they are…"  Angel quickly picked up the couch one-handed, launching it into Dante's chest.  The impact was enough to embed the stranger into the wall behind him, flecks of cement crumbling about Dante.  "…the bigger the object to throw at them."

Angel was beginning to believe that Dante was done for with that blow.  After all, if someone threw him into a wall, it would take him a while to recover.  The body was motionless.  Maybe he had overdone it.  The couch was a bit much, after all.

Dante looked almost lifeless as Angel approached him.  He had to make sure that the stranger was truly down for the count.  Because, frankly, putting him down had been too easy.  Even Lorne would have put up a better fight than this guy.  Angel leaned over Dante, his fingers touching the side of his neck, looking for a pulse.  That's when he felt it.

Angel groaned in pain when he felt the fingers dig into his flesh, squeezing.  Then the voice.

"Is that it?"

Dante's fingers squeezed harder about Angel's dead heart, blood beginning to seep through the fabric of Angel's shirt, turning blue into black.  Before Angel realized what was happening, Dante pushed forward, launching Angel across the lobby and into the counter.

Angel slowly crawled out of the debris, his gaze locked with Dante's.  Dante slowly brought his fingers to his lips, delicately licking the blood from his fingers.  Angel felt uneasy while Dante lapped at the blood with his tongue, the smile on his face growing.

"My turn."

**Sunnydale**

Buffy wanted to do something.  Anything.  But the sight before her was unreal.  She had fought Glory in the past and barely stood her ground with her because of the hammer she had acquired from Anya's ex.  But a hammer wasn't needed now.  Because Spike was holding his own with Glory, fist for fist.

Willow ran up to Buffy's side, Tara close behind while the scene played out in front of them.

"Buffy?"

Buffy answered her friend's question without ever hearing it.  "I don't know, Will.  But he's doing it."

Tara spoke, a hint of fatigue in her voice.  "They're…they're moving so fast.  It's like someone hit fast forward on them."

Willow nodded, her gaze remaining on Spike and Glory.  "We've got to get away from here.  There's no telling how much damage they'll cause here."

Buffy hadn't even thought of that.  She was too entranced with Spike's fantastic feat.  How was he doing it?  Not now.  Safety first.  Questions later.

"Will, can you and Tara teleport us to someplace more desolate?"

The hesitation was evident in Willow's voice.  "I…I'm not sure.  That'll take some serious magic, and I don't want that feeling again.  I don't…"

Tara's hand gently squeezed Willow's shoulder reassuringly.  "Don't worry, sweetie.  I won't let you fall.  I promise."  Willow smiled at Tara, feeling the confidence beginning to build in her.

"What about Xander's construction site?  Doubt they'll be anyone around there at this time of night."

Buffy nodded, her eyes never leaving Spike.  He had just taken a headbutt and brushed it off as though Glory was giving him a love tap before returning a fist across her face.  They were both bloodied and bruised, and Glory looked on the verge of killing everything in her sight once she got finished with Spike.  There was no way he could keep this up.  Was there?

"Do it."

Willow and Tara nodded, joining hands while they stood side by side.  While the two witches chanted softly, Buffy's gaze remained on Spike and Glory.  She could see that the fight was intensifying with every moment.  Even the impact of their punches was beginning to resonate more loudly than before.  What had Spike become?

Before she knew it, a ring of blue energy shot from beneath Tara and Willow's feet, expanding outward until it encompassed Spike and Glory.  Neither seemed aware of what was happening, each refusing to back down.  Without even giving glowing aura now about them a second thought, the lawn was now empty, a crackle of energy remaining in the night air.

The figure stepped from the shadows, his curiosity piqued.

"So, he's beginning to show signs.  Still, he'll probably need help with the hellgod."

With that, Gabriel stepped onto the lawn, gently sniffing the night air.  After he was convinced of the trajectory of the witches' spell, Gabriel's body engulfed itself in a white aura before he, himself disappeared as well.

Los Angeles 

"Alright then.  Let's see what you've got."

Angel couldn't believe it, but he was actually fearing for his well being at that very moment.  With one move, Dante had put him out of commission.  But, Angel didn't have a choice but to fight.  Cordelia needed him.

"You heard me.  Show me what you've…"

Dante's fist came crashing into Angel's face, Dante's free hand grabbing the vampire by the arm to prevent him from falling down.  They were now face to face, Dante smiling slightly.  Angel stared at him in confusion.  How did he get that hit in?  He was all the way across the lobby.  No one could move that fast.

"How…?"

Dante threw another right cross against Angel's jaw, blood beginning to trickle down his lip.  Before Angel knew it, Dante's fists were like jackhammers, pounding away at his body.  So fast.  Even Angel's vampiric vision couldn't keep up with Dante.  He was a blur, each blow feeling almost like being struck by lightning.  Repeatedly.

With his final blow, Dante lifted Angel up into the air.  Angel slammed into the roof of the lobby, the impact upon falling back to the fall equally as painful.  Angel tried to get up but found that his body wouldn't cooperate with him.  His whole body felt numb.  It was painful enough just to arch his neck up to Dante.

Dante walked slowly across the lobby, the smile on his face no longer evident.  He was somber once again, as though he was at peace.  Angel struggled to speak, but only coughs laced with blood left his mouth.  Dante kneeled next to the battered vampire, gentleness in his voice.

"I wouldn't worry.  Once you get some blood in you, you'll be good as new."

Angel tried to speak once again, managing to get the words out this time.

"Don't…don't….hurt her."

"I told you before.  I'm here for you, Angel."  Dante's brow furrowed slightly as he reconsidered his words.  "Well, in a manner of speaking, of course."

Angel stared at Dante, confusion enveloping his countenance.  However, the confusion turned to terror when Angel felt Dante's hand enter his chest, bright light pouring from the wound.  His screams echoed throughout the lobby, the pain unbearable.  Angel could feel himself fading, slipping away from himself.

And then nothing.

Nothing but Dante's voice.

"To whom am I speaking?"

Angel slowly opened his eyes, the sight before that of Dante holding a glowing sphere in the palm of his hand.  The grin slowly spread across Angel's lips as he spoke.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Dante answered Angel's question even though his wasn't.

"It is."

Angel chuckled slightly while remaining on the floor of the lobby.  "You know, once I heal up proper, I'm going to thank you by ripping your heart out of your chest and feeding it to you."

Dante nodded approval as he stood up, his gaze never leaving Angel's.  Or, what used to be Angel.

"Angelus, I presume."

Angelus' chuckling turned into a full-bellied laugh even though the pain continued to course through his system.

"Let me guess.  You're gonna blackmail me into helping you by threatening to put Angel's soul back in me.  Right?"

Dante looked on at Angelus, not entirely understanding the vampire's statement.  That was, until he remembered the soul he held in the palm of his hand.  Dante lifted his other hand over the glowing sphere.  Then, without any hesitation, he snuffed it out.

"No, Angelus.  You're going to help me because I will it.  If not, I'll kill you where you lay."

The threat from Dante meant nothing to him.  Not at that moment.  Instead, Angelus' laughter continued to swell, the feeling in him one of joy.  For he was finally free of Angel.  Forever.

To be continued 


End file.
